


Falcon's Flight (working title) Book One

by delusionalintrospection



Series: Falcon's Flight (working title) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, F/F, Fantasy, M/M, Romance, Sci-Fi, Steampunk, action-adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalintrospection/pseuds/delusionalintrospection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, our world was invaded. Now, there's a timid sort of peace- but how long will it last, with someone trying so hard to make war again? Especially when the two groups who could save us all are too busy being at one another's throats...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 No one was totally sure where it came from. It was just there one day, like it had always been there. A huge, beautiful painting of a woman- easily taller then most people, vibrant colors and the background -a beautiful, peaceful field.  
  
It appeared in the middle of town, as if someone had just-erected it, overnight.

 No one really thought much of it- such strange things happened in Azule Falls that it was just one more odd thing to ponder.

 

She was a beautiful woman; her smile was gentle, on soft, full lips, and her green eyes were warm and kind. She wore a dress as green as her eyes, and her soft blonde hair curled down past her hips, loose and full.

 

I liked her, personally. There was no name on the painting, so no one to give credit to, but people would sometimes leave money on the ground near her. It was, in theory, to thank the painter, and in most places you might say  _oh,well, that's stupid, anyone could just take it_.

 

And normally, you'd be right. And yet.  
  
And yet, people were having dreams of a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair and kind blue eyes, followed by  _amazing_  luck.

 

I stood in front of the huge painting, head tilted back to see all the way to the top. Our team was fairly small; myself, my older brother Amarock, my best friend, Synclair, our other friend, Piper, and my brother's boyfriend, Harli. We were a small, specialized team; we had to be. Being undercover was our specialty. A small group of young men and women; no one suspected a thing. We were simply small group of teens who liked to travel; who had been drawn to this town because of the rumors surrounding the painting. It wasn't  _too_  far off from the truth.  
  
“The power it gives off is incredible.” Harli drawled, with a whistle. His hair- bright red this week- flopped over one green eye, as he leaned closer and pushed his glasses up on his nose, further.  
  
“I say we stay for a week, watch to see what, if any fallout, follows.” My brother, in his calm, cold voice. My brother is something of a legend both in the Order and the Shadow; there are rumors that he's trained himself not to feel, that he's not human himself, but secretly one of the Visitors.

 

I could sometimes see where the rumors came from. They were, of course, just rumors; my brother felt as much as anyone else, he just- was good at locking it down and doing what needed to be done however he, personally, felt about it.

 

“Well, people have already been paying tribute to it.” Piper replied, folding her arms and looking around us at the people moving around, blissfully oblivious. “It's not like we can do anything about that part now; Amarock's got a point. We could move it out now, without waiting, or we can see what happens. If nothing negative happens-”  
  
“Yeah, I'm not willing to bet any currency on that-”  
  
“ _Hush_ , Harli- if nothing negative happens, then we take it.”  
  
Amarock arched a brow. “Assuming stealing it isn't exactly what sets off repercussions.”  
  
“If that idea scares you,” Piper challenged. “Then you're in the wrong line of work.”  
  
“Maybe you should go work for the Order instead.” I added, and Harli barked a laugh while Piper smacked me upside the head.

  
“Don't even joke like that! They'd kill us, if they could.”  
  
“I don't think so.” Synclair murmured. “Lock us up, maybe, turn us into the police, but-”  
  
“Don't be naive.” I muttered, arching a brow. “We're talking about a company that doesn't even want people to have magic. At all. What do you think they'd do to a group of thieves that  _sell_ magical artifacts?”  
  
“Say it louder, Bast.” Amarock grunted. And that told you everything it needed to about our parents, didn't it? One child named Amarock, one named Bast- who needs  _normal_  names that won't get your kid made fun of endlessly in high school?  
  
Okay, that didn't actually happen. People thought my name was cool, and people were too afraid to fuck with Amarock, if they  _did_  think he had a goofy name. Besides- we'd only been in public school for a few years before  _It_  had happened. Hell, I hadn't been at all.  
  
“So we watch.” Piper interrupted our bickering. “And you guys do know that the Order  _will_  show up, sooner or later. We don't have a lot of time.”  
  
“We have long enough.” Amarock rumbled. “We'll get a hotel, give it a week.”  
  
See, the thing is, unlike most thieves, we actually had to be  _careful._ Didn't help that we weren't freelance; we were part of a group called the Shadow. Stealing magical artifacts wasbwhat we did, professionally. So when we lifted something, we had to make sure it wasn't cursed or evil-or, if it wa _s_ , that at least we were all on the same page about it. Including the buyer.

 

Yeah, some people  _will_  buy items knowing they're cursed. Sometimes they're just that desperate.  
  
“Fair enough. I'll get us a couple rooms.”  
  
Synclair snorted. “I'll go with you. Make sure we're not sleeping with rat

 

bedmates.”  
  
“ _Hey!”_

“Bast, you are many things, but discerning about where you sleep isn't one.”  
  
“I'm discerning!”  
  
“You fell asleep  _on the ground in an alley.”_  
  
“I was tired-” I pouted, folding my arms in a huff.  
  
“My point has been proven.”  
  
“I'd just gotten my  _ass kicked_!”  
  
Synclair laughed a little, patted me on the shoulder, guiding me back towards the city and away from the square. I knew he was mostly just teasing, but the simple fact was Synclair was a  _snob_ ; he'd always been and he probably always will be.  
  
Behind us, Amarock was already leading Piper and Harley away from the portrait; Piper had split off from the group, and was talking to a small, gathered bunch of onlookers- gathering as much information as she could as the other two wandered from vender to vendor, as if simply admiring wares.

 Maybe they really were, in some ways- I knew Harli was, at least. Amarock was probably just following him for appearances sake, as well as keeping an eye open for anything that may be more _subtly_  magical. He was good at sensing that shit.  
  
“Tiny inns,” I determined, after a few minutes of walking- “Nothing too nice. Sorry, Syn.”  
  
“It's a small town.” Synclair shrugged. “Kind of in the middle of no where, too. I can't say I'm  _too_ surprised.”  
  
“ _I'm_  surprised you're not complaining louder-”  
  
He whapped me up the back up the head- twice in less then ten minutes, damn. “I can live without room service for a week.”  
  
“Are you sure? It's asking an awful lot-”  
  
A hand to his forehead and a swoon. “I will be strong, young lad. For you, I will be strong!”

 

I dissolved into sniggers. See, Synclair was from Old Earth, and just a  _little_  bit of a snob, like I said.  
  
I should- probably explain that, hu?  
  
See, a few years back- I was just a tiny kid, maybe two or three, and I'm twenty now- science pushed it just a little too far. We got the attention of the Visitors; and one day, when I was being walked home from school by my big brother, hand in hand, the sky split open and the world  _uprooted_.  
  
They must have planned it- rifts opened in the sky all over the world at almost the exact moment. It was so perfectly synchronized that it  _had_  to have been planned. They came through in massive swarms with no warning; people that  _looked_  like humans but wielded  _magic_ , walking, talking storybook

 

characters. Except these weren't coming on some grand adventure to save us. No, these wanted to _conquer_  us.

 

And they did just that.  
  
They threw our world into pure chaos. Large chunks of earth suddenly becoming air borne and strange creatures right out of fantasy charging into the streets will do that.  
  
Why didn't the military beat them back?  
  
Because maybe you missed the part  _where they had magic_. Also, where they hit various places over the

 

earth all at once. And like I said-  _parts of earth suddenly just decided_ , well you know, fuck gravity, who needs it?  
  
And it took people with it.  
  
It only took them a scant few years to totally overthrow humanity's hold on the planet and replace it with their own. Only around seven years, and they had us totally subjugated. I was one of the people

 

who got lifted into the air- I don't even  _remember_  Old Earth. My mom, my dad, Amarock and I- all hoisted up into the sky when our city was.  
  
You can imagine the aftermath was...pretty ugly. A lot of people died. People died in the initial invasion, in the war following, and then just- afterward. People who were trapped in the sky leaped to their death in panic and despair.  
  
Our parents were among them.  
  
They just- couldn't take it. It was too much; they couldn't cope.

 

Some people took the more old-fashioned way out.  
  
Then, of course, people died simply trying to  _adjust_ , in the years following. I mean, the Visitors-surprisingly- helped us to adjust and learn to survive in our new world to the best of the ability, but _especially_ those relocated to the sky. Our bodies weren't used to the altitude, the change in temperature,

 

and besides that, a lot of us just...didn't want to try.

 

But time heals all wounds, like they say. And in time...well. Here we were, right? A subjugated people now under the rule of monarchy instead of government; people oppressed and trapped by a race that

 

came out of imagination, beasts that shouldn't exist but  _did_.

 

Something like eighteen years later, here we were, standing on a floating city named /name/, and  _living_. Thriving, even. And sometimes, that's...well. Take what you can get, right?  
  
But the reason why Synclair is a snob is because Old Earth- the part of our world still gravity bound-is... _far_  higher class then those places trapped up in the sky. For the  _most_  part. People lucky enough to

 

be able to make homes on Old Earth have the money for it, or the influence, or both.  
  
“Why don't we just go back to the  _ship_?” I pointed out.  
  
“You know the answer to that.” Synclair rolled his eyes. “It would 'blow our cover' if someone saw us. The  _Gyrfalcon_  isn't exactly  _unknown_.”  
  
  
I shrugged. In my humble opinion, we were good enough to make sure that didn't happen, but hey.  _I_ didn't have a problem sleeping in an inn; I'd spent most of my childhood sleeping in gutters, for God's sake.

Eh, maybe Synclair was right about the whole 'would sleep anywhere' thing.

 

We made our way to the first halfway decent looking inn we could find, slipping through vendors and edging our way past a line of mechanized horses- yeah,  _mechanized_ \- before we made it to the place, and I tugged the door open for him.  
  
And inside, something I never thought I would get used to. I  _did_ , obviously; it's kinda funny, what we can actually learn to accept when we don't have a choice. And talking humanoid cats? It could be worse.  
  
It  _was_  worse, just go out to the wilds of some of these floating cities. Human-cats were downright tame compared to some of the shit out there.

 

  
They were actually called Felae, but damn if I cared; they were cat-people. The one behind the desk at this end was young and tall, a pretty girl in a light blue mid-drift revealing top and long, gauzy skirt.

Her huge ears were tuffed at the points with white fur, otherwise, she was all over sleek grey fur. Her slit-pupil eyes were green, and even though her smile was  _pleasant_ , it was on an animalistic face that wasn't really meant to move like that, and slightly surreal.  
  
Plus, teeth.  
  
“Hello, gentlemen. Can I help you?” She greeted, in that thickly-purring accented voice the Felae had, all soft 'hs' and tiny voices.  
  
“Uh, hi.” I grinned, gave her a little wave. “We need- three rooms? Two, if it's all you have, will work-”  
  
“We have three rooms,sir.” She replied, with a little bobbing bow; they were almost  _compulsively_ polite. She told me the price, and while I paid, Synclair twisted around to rest his elbows on the counter. His expression was scornful, nose wrinkled, and I rolled my eyes as I turned back to him.  
  
I sometimes wondered why he was here; he was so obviously not fond of air travel, of being up here-would obviously would rather be down there on Old Earth.  
  
Wonder what it was he did, what it was he was running from, that had him with us.

 

“Alright, got the keys. Let's go check out the goods, hu?”  
  
“One moment.” Synclair turned back to the girl. “What is it you know about that painting in the square, sweetheart?”  
  
Oh, and I knew that voice. Synclair already had a drawling southern accent; and when he decided to turn up the charm, he knew how to do it, and how to use that accent to his advantage.

 

Fucking weapon of mass destruction, that accent, and we could all only pray he used his powers for good.

 

“The- painting?” She twitched an ear, head tilting slightly. “Not much, sir. I don't go in much for gossip.”  
  
That figured. Like I said- polite to a fault.  
  
“You haven't gone to try it?” And a winning, charming grin, as he leaned a little closer to her. “Why am I not surprised? A pretty little thing like you doesn't  _need_  good luck.”  
  
She blushed- you could barely see it through her fur- and put her ears back shyly. “I-” She peeked up. “I mean, my friends and I did, but-”  
  
“Ah, you  _did_?”  
  
“Yes, sir, but I can't say I was brave enough to actually  _leave_  anything. I watched them, but-”  
  
Interesting. I wondered if the magic in the painting would be upset with this girl, for not participating.

 

If it was at all sentient.

 

“Not cowardice, my dear, wisdom. To be cautious is to be smart.” He smiled, charmingly, and she

 

ducked her head again, shyly.  
  
“Alright, Casanova.” I muttered. “Enough.”  
  
He glanced over at me, arching a brow.

  
  
“Crude, Bast.” He replied, then pushed off the counter lightly. He flashed her another charming smile, a playful little bow that made her giggle, and then took my elbow.  
  
“Watch her.” He murmured, in my ear, “Found out where she's staying and have Rook put someone on her.”  
  
“Already thought it.” I murmured, tugging up my sleeve to the communicator there. Cell phones were a thing of the past; the magic that had come through with the Visitors had fucked up airwaves and  _most_ current electronics. Computers, cell phones- luckily, the Visitors all had their own methods of long distance communication and research. Technology that meshed well with their world, and now, with ours.  
  
Like the communicator on my wrist. Think of a cell phone, but instead of entering a person's phone number, you entered their first and last name and keyed in a code specific to them. Then, where ever they were, their own communicator would alert them to you trying to get a hold of them.  
  
The problem with this is that you have  _got_ to know, and clearly speak, the person's full name.  


 

So I waited until we got into the rooms.  
  
They were nice, as far as they went- Synclair made a low noise of distaste, but  _I_ liked them. It was small, painted in warm colors; the bed was large and soft, and there was a tv in the corner. Or what passed for a TV- remember I said they'd brought their own forms of technology? Yeah. The floors were rich, dark wood, and plants wound their way up the in and outside of the windows, filling the room

 

with the smell of flowers I knew and ones less familiar; plants from the Visitor's world mingling with the scent of ones I'd smelled as a child.  
  
In a way, it felt appropro. The two scents- the two worlds- mingling together as one, clashing and merging.  
  
I was feeling poetic, it seemed.

 

I closed the door behind us as Synclair took a seat on the bed, gently locking it, and spoke, at last, into the little device on my wrist.  
  
“Azariah Tremaine. Code 5774.”  
  
There was a pause, a series of beeps, and then the familiar, crisp accent-  
  
“Hey, there you two are. How loud is Syn whining?”  
  
“Fuck  _you_ , Rook.”  
  
I grinned as he laughed warmly. “Why are you calling me?”  
  
I sat back on the bed. “There's a girl here- lil Falidae- who says she went to the portrait with her friends but didn't wish or leave anything. Syn and I think maybe someone should keep an eye on her.”  
  
“In case that backfires? Alright, not a bad idea. Put Piper on it, and I'll have one of mine take up a watch, too.”  
  
It may have seem a bit like overkill, to have two people on the same girl, but considering the magnitude of what we possibly were handling, here- it wasn't.

 

“I'll go get Piper.” Synclair offered, still wrinkling his nose at the bed. “Better then reminding myself where I'll have to sleep for the next week.”  
  
“Oh,  _c'mon_ , Syn, it's not that bad-” I protested, intterupted by his snort as he pushed back out the wooden door. “Maybe not for a guttersnipe,” He snipped, and I was reminded what a  _dick_  I had made friends with, for some asinine reason.  
  
“Go step on a marble.” I grunted, flopping down on the soft pillows. Okay, so 'soft' was pushing it-maybe they were a bit scratchy. But hell, they were  _pillows_ , don't bloody complain. I mean, he wasn't wrong- not really. Amarock and I  _had_  been gutter trash, for years, before Rook had found us and picked us up. Or, rather, before my dumb eight year old self had tried to pick-pocket him. Rather then  _kill_  me, he'd laughed, told me I had talent, and turned me into a protoge of sorts.

 

So really, like I said- Synclair wasn't wrong. That didn't mean it stung any less.

 

I think I feel asleep. I know that sounds crazy, to fall asleep when in the middle of a massive potential theft, but it had been a long flight and a long day and the bed  _was_  comfie. I closed my eyes-

 

-and when I woke again, someone was screaming.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The scream jolted me from asleep to awake in the time it took me to sit up; no ‘wake up’ time. Reflex and old habit, and when I sat up the first thing I was aware of was that Amarock was in the room with me. That he’d gotten in without waking me wasn’t actually a surprise. I knew him, even subconsciously. He was already dressed, strapping his pistols on under the long brown duster he wore. That was a surprise.  
“Do you actually sleep in your clothes?” 

“Don’t be a smartass. You fell asleep absurdly early. No one else was asleep Harliquinn and I were only just getting ready to sleep.” He tugged his shoulder length blonde hair into a ponytail. “Get up. Get dressed.” 

“I didn’t dream that scream, then?” 

“Very much not.” 

I slide out of bed, my own dark hair flopping into my eyes. Mine was shorter, barely to the base of my chin, and streaked through with various colors. People sometimes joked that was the best way to tell us apart, even the only way at a quick glance. Otherwise, age difference aside, Amarock and I could be twins. 

Another scream got my ass out of musing mode and into action. 

I grabbed the gunblade that was my weapon of choice- I called it /Name/, and Amarock mocked me for naming a weapon, of all things- and turned to face him again. “What the hell’s happening? Is everyone okay?” 

“Everyone here is fine. I can’t raise Rook or anyone on the Falcon.” My brother was concerned. I knew how to see it.   
“Rook’s smart and quick. I’m sure they’re fine.” I tried to reassure, but even I felt a surge of worry. Not being able to raise someone was not, generally, a good sign, and that- wasn’t like them. I hoped I wasn’t lying.   
Behind my brother, Harli appered. I couldn’t see them, but I knew the plethora of daggers that were hidden on his person were more then ready to be launched. “Piper?” I asked, and Harli motioned down the hall. “She and Synclair went to see what, exactly, is going on.” 

I nodded, tugging on my own coat and looking out the window down below.   
And I felt my breath catch for a moment.   
Outside, nothing but bright golden light.   
“What the hell?-“   
“Bast. Bast.” I realized rather belatedly that Amarock had been trying to get my attention for- what, nearly five straight minutes? “What is that?” I managed, and could hear how choked my own voice was.   
“I think,” Amarock replied, his voice terse and calm in the way the eye of a storm is calm, “That it’s the painting.”   
“The-“ I stopped as the communicator on my wrist started buzzing.   
“Oh thank God.” Piper whispered, and I pressed the ‘receive’ button. “There you are.” I breathed. “We were concerned.”   
“Awww, worried about lil’ old me?” Rook’s voice rang with laughter. “How sweet!”   
“Go fuck yourself, Rook, people are dying outside.” Piper snapped, from behind me.   
“Dying?” I hadn’t seen anything but a light. And then I realized-

“Piper. When did-“  
“You were staring at that light for nearly ten minutes.” Synclair was here, too- now I saw him in a corner. “I thought Amarock was going to hurl you out the window just to get your attention.”   
I winced, glancing back, but Amarock refused to look at me. Later. We’d talk about this later.   
For now, I turned my attention back to Rook. “Where are you?”   
“On the move.” I could hear his grin again. “It seems our friends from the Order showed up sometime last night. Like everything else they manage to get right, they accidentally stumbled over us. I decided it might be better to live to fight another day, especially when that painting of ours decided to go guard dog on us all.”   
“So that light is the painting.” Harli murmured. 

“Yep. It, uh- it’s not too happy about us being here. Any of us. Outsiders at all.”   
“Fantastic.” Synclair groaned. “Of course it isn’t.”   
“I think it’s probably best for us to get the hell gone.” I recognized Rook’s first mate’s voice. Amused, but also sharply alert. “Get to the pick-up point. Yesterday.”   
We didn’t need telling twice. We moved. A pack of wolves, moving as one, down the hall, teeth bared, claws at the ready, snapping and growling good-naturedly at each other as we moved. Anyone and thing that got in our way was in for one hell of an ugly surprise. 

We didn’t encounter anything but scared, innocent civilians until we got back down into the lobby. And there, in the room-  
-she hadn’t been screaming about the Order. I mean, the Order was here- it was the first thing we saw, members of their crew. But she was screaming about what was happening to them.   
The light was chasing them. And every single one it touched simply- burned away. It was- 

-yeah, okay, it was terrifying. 

“Move!” Amarock’s deep voice boomed in my ear, then he grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back. Where I’d ben standing, the light abruptly lashed out. It missed me by inches, and Piper screamed. Synclair grabbed her hand. “Run!” He yelled, and that was exactly what we did. We bolted, past dying people, past the blazing light. We ran, some of us holding hands, others alone. No one abandoned, though, no one forgotten. Not ever. We were family.   
Out to the square in town. People were still dropping like flies-I could see it, out of my periphery. We kept moving- if anyone faltered, someone grabbed them and dragged them onward.   
And then, finally, thank God, there she was. The Gyrfalcon. Built for speed and agility rather then power or force, she was small and dark, the wood almost black, her sails silver. Even as I watched, those sails folded down, the ship’s metal shell coming up around her, thrusters emerging like dragons from caves. And then the bridge lowered for us. I pushed Piper ahead of me, then grabbed the rungs myself and followed her up. Amarock was just behind me, and Synclair behind him, Harli bringing up the rear. Even as the last of us clambered up, the thrusters kicked in, and we lurched violently, nearly kicking me to the floor.   
A strong hand grabbed my shoulder, righting me before I hit the ground. I grinned sheepishly up at it’s owner, who gave me an affectionate smirk. Callista- the first mate. She patted my shoulder before tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “I thought you had your air legs by now, Bast.” She teased, making Amarock snort from behind me. I blushed and swatted her hand away. “Very funny.” I grumbled. “Bet you two did that on purpose.”   
“Now you’re just being paranoid.” She flashed me a grin. “I’m not that talented with timing. Close, but no cigar, as the saying goes?”   
“If you don’t know the phrase, don’t use it.” I grumbled, and Amarock smacked me upside the back of the head for no damn good reason as he passed by. I yelped in wounded protest, rubbing the spot with what was most defiantly not a pout.   
“Not how you talk to a lady.” Piper sniffed, also walking past.   
“It would help if she was a lady.” I snipped, and Callista laughed warmly, not offended in the least. I’d know she wouldn’t be. “Less of a lady then you, for damn sure.” She returned.   
“Ohhh.” Harli barked a laugh as I growled at Callista’s retreating back. 

“Kids, can we focus on the problem and bicker later?” Rook’s rich accent filled my ears, amused.   
“She’s antagonizing me!”   
“I don’t care who started it, I will turn this ship around and finish it!” 

Callista laughed again, and I grinned, coming into the cockpit. Rook was probably not what you’d picture when you imagined an airship pirate, and at the same time exactly what you’d imagine. His hair was very long- past his hips- and chestnut in color, a brown that was damn near red. It was a mess of braids and bangles, feathers and beads, held back in the thick braid for the most part. Bits fell free around his face, and it was a delicate face with a seemingly perpetual grin. One very pale blue eye was covered by a patch, a nasty scar ripping down that side of his face that played hell with he muscles there. Still, he was, to put it bluntly, damn pretty.   
I knew Harli’d had a crush on him for a while before my brother, and who could blame him? I had a little crush.   
He twisted to look at us with one of his easy grins.   
“I think this once, I can forgive you all for not getting the prize.” He snarked. “But just this once. Has anyone seen the Bastion?” His expression tried to remain professional curiosity, but I saw it, and I was sure he others did, too.   
Concern. He was worried.   
I glanced at Amarock, who caught my eye. Yeah, he’d seen it, at least. Unsurprising- my brother missed very little.   
No one was entirely sure what was ‘up’ with Rook and the captian of the Bastion, but something was, for damn sure, and had been for years. They hated each other, supposedly, but I’d seen them protect each other and fight side by side with my own eyes. It was something I didn’t think would ever get explained, not fully.   
And none of us would push.   
“I’ve not seen it.” I admitted, as Piper shrugged helplessly, and Amarock shook his head. Synclair made a helpless I duno sort of motion, and Harli couldn’t quite look up, as if he was guilty, somehow. Rook sighed, then forced the smile on again. “Hey, I’m sure if anyone can get out of this shit, it’s that bastard.” I tried, and his smile became a little more real.   
“Bet you’re right, love.” He replied with a wink, and the ship kicked into powerful forward motion. The roar of the engine filled my ears, and I turned to watch Azule Falls vanish in our wake. The golden light was so brilliant it was nearly hard to look at, even indirectly, but I didn’t want to look away, either.   
“Bast.” Amarock’s cool voice, calm, near my ear. “Look at me, little brother.”   
It was harder to do, I thought, then it should have been. Pulling my eyes from the light to my brother at last, I blinked, and it felt like a fog being lifted from my eyes and mind. “That’s how it’s getting them.” I realized. “Like a snake.”   
He nodded, grimly. “It transfixes. Hypnotizes.”   
“So why didn’t it get to you?”   
“It tried.” Was all he said, before brushing my hair out of my eyes. My brother, the human Robocop. Of course it hadn’t affected him. “Stay away from the windows and stay inside.”   
“Yes, dad.” I made a face, but I knew he was right. I gently closed the porthole covers as Callista took her seat next to Rook.   
“Everyone on board safe?” I asked, plunking down behind them.   
“Yeah. You were the only ones on the surface.” Rook replied. “And a couple of crew members tried to walk off the deck, but we grabbed ‘em before they got far. Everyone’s fine.”   
“Good.” Harli was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. “I guess we can report this one as danger-shit!” He yelped as we rocked again, violently pitching to one side.   
“I think we found the Bastion.” Synclair gritted, bracing himself as we rocked again. “And something tells me Zephyr blames us for this.”   
“Of course he does.” Rook gritted. “Can he just- can you just wait until we’re clear of this bullshit, please?!” He roared, towards the ceiling, as if Zephyr could hear him. We raced ahead of the Bastion- it was more powerful, but we were faster by far. I knew Rook would moderate his speed enough to watch and make sure the bigger ship got clear, too. Hell, part of me wondered if the Bastion bumping us was more it’s way to let us know it was there more then any real attempt to stop us. Knowing Zephyr it was entirely possible; I wouldn’t think he was stupid enough to try and stop us now. I said so, and Rook paused, then swore.   
“Fuck him for being a confusing bastard.” He gritted, before making a sharp swerve and pulling even with the bigger ship.   
The Bastion was easily twice the Gyrfalcon’s size, huge and reddish brown, nearly the same color as Rook’s hair. The flags it flew were the colors of the Capital and the Order- one set gold and silver for the former, and black grey for the later. They were still up, as the Bastion was never meant for speed. I put one port window up just enough to see it, huge and looming beside us.   
I could see their own first mate, Standing, watching us. As I watched, he signaled us to follow.   
“They want us to follow.” I reported. “Jagger is signaling.”   
“Rook?” Callista glanced at him, and there was a long pause before he growled in answer and turned the Gyrfalcon after them.   
“Go below and tell Nicodemus that we’re needing to bring it in a bit. We’re gonna put the sails back up and slow to the Bastion’s pace.   
“He’s not gonna be happy.” I pointed out, already on my feet. We were still close to that light- way close. And it was still moving, if slowly- any movement was enough to make me uncomfortable as hell.   
“I don’t care if he’s happy. Tell him to bring it in. Now.”   
“I’m going, I’m going.” I muttered, making my was down carefully to the bowels of the ship.   
The engine room was loud, smelly, hot and close. I hated it down there, especially as a claustrophobic , and avoided it as much as possible- which I knew bothered Nico. He and I had been close since even before the Falcon- I’d go so far as to say he was even closer to me then Harli, who I’d met on the Falcon. He wanted me to stay down below and hang out, and I knew that he got lonely down there, where he spent most of his time. Where he had to.   
“Hey, Nico!” I called out, brushing aside a bit of machinery. “Nicodemus. Where are you?”   
“Down- ow- down here!” Came the reply, from a little hatch that lead even deeper into the ship. I shuddered at the mere sight of it. His head came into view moments later, blonde hair wild and covered in grease. It was smeared across one cheek, but his grin was as bright and beautiful as ever, and his brown eyes gleamed. “Hey. Everyone holding tight up there?”   
“Lil’ bit of a bumpy ride, but we’re alive. Rook wants to slow it down.”   
“Rook wants to what? Now? Has he seen what’s behind us?”   
I snorted. “Kinda hard not to. The Bastion wants us to follow her.” 

Nicodemus sighed deeply, then gave me a salute. “Of course it does. And of course he is, the lovesick idiot.” 

I laughed in surprise. Only Nico would say what we were all thinking. “Maybe kee that part to yourself. Do I need to get Rook down here, or Callista?...” 

“No need to threaten me, boy, I’m doin’ it, I’m doin’ it.” He whined, his head vanishing below the hatch again as he growled once more. A few minutes later, I could feel Rook slow us and haul up the flags. The Falcon lurched, as if protesting the abrupt slowdown like a horse fighting the bit, wanting to run.   
It didn’t help the sense of claustrophobia. 

“I- should get back topside.” I called down, with a wince. There was another thump and another “Ow!” before he popped back up. As I’d suspected, he looked a little like a kicked puppy.   
“…Yeah. I guess you’d better.” He murmured, and dammit, I shouldn’t feel so bad about just wanting to go back topside and stop feeling like I was suffocating. “Look, why don’t- if we come through all this, we can hang out later, okay?”   
He gave me an oddly crooked, almost sad little smile. “Yeah. Okay.” He replied, as I heard Synclair call my name from above. I started to back towards the door, then turned and quickly walked out before I could stop myself. Or try to, anyway.   
Back up top, everything had been opened; the deck out in open air, cockpit raised into it’s more typical spot. Our own flags were flying proudly once more, deep crimson and gold. I wasn’t sure why we flew those colors- like many other things, Rook would never tell us. I had a few educated guesses, though.   
Across from us, the Bastion soared, slow and ponderous, and behind us, the city was slowly fading from sight. The light seemed to mostly have stopped, content now that it had driven us off or killed us, it seemed. And then the Bastion came to a halt, and as we did, too, Zephyr moved into sight.   
He was handsome, in a dark, intense sort of way. Zephyr Pendeghast- semi-famous for his team of hunters, bringing in magical artifacts he deemed dangerous and locking them away. His hair was solid white; I wasn’t sure what the entire reason for it was, but rumor said something he’d gone after had lashed out at him and turned it that color. Others said it was a result of spending so much time around powerful artifacts.   
Whatever it was, it had leeched all the color out of his hair but his brows stayed deep, jet black. It had either leeched the color out of his spooky silver eyes, too, or they’d always been that colorless pale grey.   
Standing tall aboard his ship, he called out to us in his pack-a-day-smoker’s rasp; deep and gravelly. It was always surprising, as it didn’t fit him, but damn if I wouldn’t have pinned him up against the wall and licked my way down his body while he rumbled to me in that voice.   
“Rook! In the name of the city of /Name/ and the Order, you and your crew are in my custody.” In a far less official tone- “What the hell did you do?”   
“Us?” Rook pushed up from his seat at last, favoring his left leg slightly. “We didn’t do this, Zephyr.”   
“Oh no? Why don’t I believe you?” 

“Because you’re an obsessed paranoid bastard?” Rook snipped, instantly, and, before Zephyr could reply- “We didn’t touch the damn painting. We’re not that stupid. Even you should know that.” I’d swear he was offended that Zephyr assumed he’d act without thinking and cause this.   
He was silent, lips thin. “Then what or who activated it?”   
“How th’ fuck should I know?” Rook snapped back. Zephyr stopped, lips thin, jaw set. “It didn’t activate on it’s own, Rook.”   
“Proximity. You, us- the proximity probably set them off.” Rook barked right back. “If anything it was you lot who caused it to happen. It was quiet as a mouse when it was just us.”   
Zephyr didn’t like that; I could tell. I could see it in the set of his jaw and the flash in his eyes. Much like Amarock, he tried to control his emotions, particularly his anger, but I’d learned to read him, much like I’d learned to read Amarock.   
“Are you going to make a thing about this?” I gritted. “Because hanging out here isn’t the best idea.” 

“We’re safe here.” The new voice was the man I knew was Zephyr’s first mate; tall and slender, and a head full of thick hair, blonde in back and dyed blue in the longer front portion. Samandriel Hyndrix –  
-Samandriel Hyndrix who was not remotely human. Behind him flared his wings- huge hawk like things that flared out longer then he was tall. On his shoulder sat a creature that both was and was not a mouse or rat. About as long as a forearm in body, not counting his tail; that added some more length to it. Right at the moment, Pik was cream colored and white, but he would only stay that way for as long as he felt like it. He was as smart as a human, or at least a human child.   
Sam himself was a man made creation. I had no idea who had made him or why, but he was the only one like himself I had ever seen, and I had no idea what he’d been made for.   
He’d said once that he had had a race, and they’d had a name, but he’d not said what or what happened to them, just that they weren’t in existence anymore.   
“You know it, too.” He went on. “That light won’t chase past the limits of Azule Falls.”   
“I hope. I can’t know anything for sure and neither can you.” I snipped back, and he smirked, fluttering those great wings at me. “Please don’t be coy and don’t pretend to be stupid, Bast.” 

“I’m not-“   
“Children, if you’re going to cat-fight, wait until we can get a really big pool of pudding or something.” Rook didn’t take his eyes off of Zephyr, even as he smirked. “Otherwise, take your corners and shut up. The adults are talking.”   
“That was a really fucked up mixing of metaphors, there, Rook.” 

“Those weren’t metaphors, Bast. Shut up.”  
This time I subsided. I knew Rook’s tone when he was being playful and when you really needed to shut the fuck up and listen. 

“This is what happens when magical artifacts exist unchecked, Rook.” Zephyr spoke, after a few moments. “People get hurt and people die.”   
“You can’t control and regulate everything magical.” Rook growled back. “People have a right to that power if they can use and understand it.”   
“Hypocritical bastard.” Zephyr barked a laugh, and I saw Rook’s jaw clench.   
“That’s bullshit. Don’t go there.” He replied, tightly. “Either come after us or go the hell away.”   
Callista stepped up to him, one hand protectively on his shoulder. On his other side, Amarock moved up quietly. I stood next to my brother, and Synclair and Harli stood just at our flanks- defiant, defensive force.   
Zephyr sighed, quietly.   
“I can’t just let you walk away, Rook.”   
“Well of course not. That wouldn’t be any fun.” Rook grinned brightly, and Amarock let out an exasperated breath. “We’ll even slow down for you!”   
Zephyr was about to reply when someone else came up on deck. I didn’t know the person by name, and I wasn’t totally surprised. Technically, the Order was aligned with the military of /City/ and their crews tended to be huge. The sad fact was, they were also largely disposable. Zephyr probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you half his crew member’s names.   
The person spoke into Sam’s ear, and the man’s wings abruptly flared and ruffled as he turned to Zephyr, and on his shoulder the small creature bristled and even as I watched Pik’s fur shifted to a fireworks display of sharp reds and yellows, racing across his fur brightly. I wasn’t sure what the color changes meant, but clearly it meant something, from the way Sam reached out to smooth down his fur and tuck him gently away, from the reactions around- and from the way Zephyr tensed, full body, when Sam leaned in to whisper. He was speaking so damn low I couldn’t hear him, and then he and Zephyr turned and walked away without a backwards glance.   
“Zephyr.” Rook called, then, louder- “Zephyr.” But the man didn’t even pause, didn’t think about stopping.   
“What the hell.” Callista rasped, brow furrowed.   
“I don’t know.” Rook replied, watching the Bastion move away. “But we’re going to find out.”


	3. Chapter 3

The city of Redwater was beautiful, there was no denying it. No matter how it had come to be,  the world had adapted to it’s redesign with amazing skill. He would never fail to be awed at human being’s ability to adjust and survive. 

 

Like cockroaches, if one was feeling less then kind.

Like the earth itself, if one wasn’t.

He leaned against the railing of the ship, watching the people of the city below them, the gentle sway of the ship feeling nearly as if they were properly at sea on the ocean.

 

“M’lord!” The soft, sweet voice brought a smile to his lips, and he turned to face the young woman who stood with her hands folded, worrying at each other. “I’m sorry to bother you, m’lord, but Hannah is hiding from me.  You’re the only one she listens to when she gets like this-“

 

The only one. That…wasn’t true- but he was the only one _left_.  

He turned, fully, to face the handmaiden that was in charge of his younger sister and youngest sibling. She was good at running her nannies ragged; always had been, and it had gotten worse since their brother had died. She had been so very close to him.  Truthfully, they both had been, But she- wasn’t recovering from his death. She wasn’t healing.

 

He’d like to think he was. That with time, he was learning to cope with the loss of a sibling; but how the hell did you ‘recover’ from that? How did you learn to move on from _that_?

The answer, of course, was that you never did. Not really, not truly. He was handling it better, but sometimes he thought she was more honest about how she felt then he was.

“I’ll find her.” He replied, around a smile that felt hollow and unreal but probably was as charming and reassuring as a warm blanket on a cold night. “She couldn’t have gotten off the ship. Don’t worry,” He added, “You aren’t in trouble.”

 

She gave him a quick, nervous smile back, and a little bow. “Thank you, m’lord.” She replied. He watched her leave, and let his own smile drop the moment she was clear. He pushed a hand through his hair heavily, blowing out a breath. “Hayna.” He drawled, raising his voice only a little, because he knew his sister. “You are not nearly so clever as you think you are.”

 

There was a pause, then an impish giggle. From a pile of crates in the corner, her small head popped up. “Cleverer then her by far.”   
  
“Don’t be a brat.” He came over, took her hands to help her out of the pile to her feet. She was, as was his entire family, tall and slender. Her hair was fine and soft brown, and her eyes bright, clear blue. He was the odd man out, with his hair more blonde then brown; he took after their father, when the other two had their mother’s looks. They were all but identical, to each other, and to her.

Her dimpled grin was contagious and bright, her eyes glittering with mischief and play as she smiled at him. “I’m not! I’m just having a little fun!”

“Your idea of fun is turning the handmaiden’s hair grey early.” He tickled her, and she giggled, high and sweet.  “She’s probably half convinced you’ve fallen overboard.”

“I wouldn’t be so stupid.”

“All the same, go and let her know  you aren’t dead.”

 

He bent, pressed a kiss to her forehead. She pouted at him, lips thin and eyes narrow. “Fine.” She sighed, at his stern glare, tugging her shirt straight. He watched her prance away, his own lips twitching into a more honest, if a bit strained, grin.

“She’s a handful.” The new voice, familiar and comforting, came from his left. He felt himself relax, possibly visibly, and turned to face Alekzander Rhyme. Advisor, best friend, companion, and guardian, the man had been a part of his family almost since Dmitri had been born.

“She’s a child.” He replied, tiredly. “And dealing rather badly with- everything.”

Alekzander gave him a small, weak smile. He was an older man- he’d aged well, but it showed. He was a little slower, gone grey throughout nearly all of his otherwise jet black hair. His rough beard, too, was grey, and his keen green eyes were just a little fogged with age. But that absolutely didn’t make him any less dangerous or sharp. The man was nearly more a father to him then his own.

 

“She’s a strong girl.” Alekzander replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Your sister will heal. Eventually.”

Eventually. The word didn’t have the effect he thought, perhaps, it was supposed to.

“It’s been nearly two years.”

 

“Your family is in turmoil, Dmitri.” Alekz replied, quietly. “It’s not easy, for a young girl.” He paused.

“Or for you, for that matter. You’re holding up remarkably well, all things considered, my boy, but this can’t have been easy. Not even for you.”

It was almost enough, then. Almost enough to make him weaken and break. But he couldn’t. Not even here. There was a level of strength that he had to display- even just for Alekzander.

“I’m fine.”

He said instead, drawing himself tall, pushing his hair over one shoulder. “Or well enough, at the least. Thank you for your concern, Alekzander.” And deep breath. Alekzander patted his shoulder lightly. “I do not doubt your strength, child.” He reassured. “I only worry for your spirit.”

And he let himself lean, just a little, into the hand still on his shoulder. Just for a moment. Then the man patted it, light and affectionate, before pulling away.

“You are an admirable young man, Dmitri. And you will be an admirable King.”

“Not for a long while, I should hope.” He replied, mildly, and Alekzander demurred with a half-bow.

“Indeed not. Long live the king.”

“Long live the king.” He inclined his head back, and Alekzander took his leave, back below deck.

Dmitri sighed, leaning against the ship railing again. Redwater floated, peacefully, below them.

Failure. Again.

“Not here, either. Where _are_ you?” He whispered, clenching his fists against the railing. Time was running out. He was too running out of chances. And places to look. And _hope_.

He turned from the side at last, moving back below deck himself. The barking of Aether echoed off the walls, and he found himself smiling again despite everything. He’d grown up with the Lup; they’d been raised together, and Aether could make him smile like no one else. He bent, opening his arms, to the massive, winged , multi-tailed creature that looked much like a cross between earth’s wolves and foxes. A rich red-brown in color, with silver ears and a white-silver muzzle with sharp green eyes. Supposedly good luck; he’d never had any reason to vouch for the rumor one way or the other. He ruffled the fur on top of Aether’s head, before straightening and continuing to walk.

“My lord?” It was a young man this time. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine.” He lied. “It’s not here. Tell the men to be ready to move out.”

“Yes, sir.” Came the sharp reply, with a salute.  And the hunt, as ever, continued.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appologies for the strange formatting issues; in order to send in, everything must be double-spaced, and it plays hell with AO3.

 

 

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“I mean _nothing_. I wish I could tell you we’d found something out, but whatever Zephyr

and his crew have discovered, they’re keeping it close to the vest.”

I drew my hands up, sighing. This was generally Synclair’s job, but Rook had assigned

him to digging up information on our next hit. The world didn’t stop because

something doesn’t go according to plan or went weird. We still needed to get paid.

Still, I felt damn useless right now.

“I’m not Syn.” I heard myself snap. “I’m sorry.”

Rook sighed, rubbing the leg he’d been favoring lightly. “That’s not what I meant,

Bast.”

And I knew that. Sighing, rubbing my forehead, I nodded. “I know.” I said, and he

ruffled my hair.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” He rumbled. “After what happened last week, we’re all

maybe a little overly touchy.”

I ducked my head away with a snort. “Don’t. I’m not a kid.”

“Like hell you’re not.”  I jumped slightly at Amarock’s voice, whirling to stick my

tongue out at him.

Okay, maybe not the _best_ way to prove I _wasn’t_ childish.

Rook chuckled, and opened his mouth as if to speak, when Callista came from below,

lips set and eyes serious. “Rook.” She spoke before we could even acknowledge her. “I

need to talk-“ She stopped, then- “In private.”

His eyes narrowed. “What you can say to me, you can say to them.”

“No, I can’t.” Came the instant reply, “And you know it.”

It stung, but it wasn’t new. Sometimes, it was just the way things were. There were

things we didn’t get to know. Things we didn’t get to hear.

Amarock took my arm, gently but firmly. “You know where to find us.”  And then he

pulled me away. I only yanked my arm away once we were out of sight. I didn’t need to

be towed. “Okay, so.” I gritted. “What happens now?”

“ _Now_   you keep yourself busy.” Amarock replied. “And stay out of the way. Rook will let

us know when he needs us.” He patted my shoulder, then turned, walking below deck.

I sighed. Well, we were docked; and we would be for a few days.

May as well make the best of it.

I wander below deck myself, finding the engine room again. “Hey, Nico!” I called,

opening the door and poking my head in. “C’mon, take a break. Shore leave.”

“Shore leave,” He echoed, and I grinned. “Yeah. I told you I’d hang out with you.”

He slowly eased his way up, head cocked slightly.

“You sure?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Well, yeah. I like hanging out with you, Nic.”

His expression was more shut down then I expected, to be totally honest, and there

was something oddly- cold and cautious about it.

“The hell is the matter with you?” I asked, as he climbed up from the hatch, then shook

his head, lips thin.

“Nothing. I just- let’s go maybe get something to eat?”  He shifted and offered me a

hopeful little smile. “I’m starving.”

I wasn’t sure what had gotten into the kid, but food is never something I’m arguing

with. Besides, this would be my best chance to find out what was going on with him.

We couldn’t afford distraction like that right now.  Maybe that sounds cold as hell, I

don’t know. But what I _did_ know was that something serious was going down, and

everyone had to be at their best. 

We were docked at Blackditch, and it didn’t take Nic long to shower. He came back up,

blonde hair pulled in a tail and wearing more casual jeans and a t-shirt. He smiled,

honestly this time, and I-

 

-felt the breath rush out of me. Blue was…a good color on him. A very good color. I’d

never- how had I never noticed that before? And I’d forgotten how bright his smile-

It just. Nicodemus was one of those people who _lit up_ when they smiled, and I’d

forgotten. Somehow. Or maybe I’d just never noticed.

I shook my head, teeth set, and made myself smile back. Nicodemus was my friend.

 _Just_ my friend. I didn’t need to complicate that.

 

We disembarked onto a small skiff that would take us to the port in Blackditch. The

ships were too damn big to get close to the ports themselves, so we needed the skiffs.   
  
Once docked, I grinned over at him. “Well, where to?”

“Maybe we can go see the animal handlers before we eat?” He asked, timidly.

“Sure.” The animal handlers were a talented few that breed and raised the hybrids

used for work. While horses were mechanized, other animals remained organic. Nico

had always liked them, even asking if we couldn’t really have any on the ship, really,

Rook?

 

He _glowed_   when I said yes.

 

I saw the others disembarking, too- Synclair on a skiff across from ours, talking head

to head with Piper, and Harli and my brother still on deck, Amarock leaning against the

railing and Harliquinn with a hand on his shoulder. I couldn’t see his expression, but

his pose…unsettled me. Amarock seemed to _slump_. Amarock didn’t slump. He hated

people who did- he’d beaten the habit out of me.

I frowned slightly, but Nico touched my arm, and offered me a smile that seemed only

a _little_ strained.

“It’ll be okay, Bast. We’re gonna be fine.”

I smiled back. I had to smile back. It was what I did. I was fine, of course. Always

peachy.  “Yeah.” And nevermind that the air felt like it did right before a storm.

Still, it was easy to forget, once Nico and I hit shore. Nico all but launched out of the

skiff, and I followed, laughing at his enthusiasm.

“Wait! Nic, wait!” I laughed out, shaking my head.

He didn’t, of course. I rolled my eyes, grinning, and took off after him. For the first     

time in days, our laughter echoed across the air as I pounced on him just outside the

pens of the animals for sale.

“Hey Bast, check this out.” He grunted, as I cracked into him, staggering.

“Check what out?”

He pointed at a small, scruffy, dog-like creature in one of the kennels.

“That- looks familiar, don’t you think?”

I paused, cocking my head. “How so?”

“I swear, it looks like one I’ve seen before.”

I shrugged, looking down at the dog-like beast. Small, long-haired, pale with dark

splotches across his coat. His tail was split into two long, slender coards, and his ears

were _enormous_ , bat-like. Kinda pretty, really.

“Yeah, that’s the thing, though.” He glanced at me. “They _aren’t_.”

“They aren’t?” I frowned. “Nic, it’s just a dog.”

He shook his head, though. “No. Look at the shape of the head.” He motioned. “That’s 

 _breeding_ \- this thing will go for a _lot_ of money. Ask the owner.”

“Well of course the person trying to sell it’s gonna tell me it’s worth a lot, Nic.” I

sighed. “I’ll take your word for it.”  I trusted Nic knew his shit- he was an engineer, but

even I didn’t know what he’d been before that.  He’d _told_ me some of it, though-

more, I thought, then most people.

“So you think you’ve seen it before. Probably? Rare doesn’t mean gone- or maybe you

saw a picture or something.”

“Maybe.” But his face said he wasn’t at all sure- just trying to make me happy.

I studied the dog’s face for a long moment after he turned away- both to keep him

happy, and-

-just in case.  

The rest of the day made it easy, though, to stop caring. It’s easy generally, when you

have Nicodemus around- easy to get lost in his laugh, in the way he smiles, easily and

often. His laugh was beautiful, rich and throaty, and he always laughed without

restraint. We walked, more relaxed then we probably should have been, past shops and

equipment stores alike. Our last job, obviously, had gone a little- sideways- so we

didn’t exactly have money to space, but all the same, we wandered. And I _did_ still have

enough to buy us dinner.

Luckily for me, Nico wasn’t extraordinarily snobby about where he wanted to eat. We

found a nice little place, settled outside, and soon we were eating more then we should

have been faster then we really should have done.  I admit, this- wasn’t too bad, really.

He chattered happily, and between the two of us the gloomy mood of the ship quickly

faded into laughter and jokes that weren’t polite for company or public. Not, of course,

that we gave any fucks. It had been so long since I’d seen him so happy and relaxed,

and I’d never stopped long enough to-

 

_No. **No** , remember, you can’t afford this. You can’t._

 

I choked on my food slightly, reaching for water as I tried in vain to pretend I wasn’t

coughing like an idiot who’d forgotten to chew. Nico handed it to me with a concerned

look.

“Bast? You okay?”

Wheezing and pretending I wasn’t approximately the color of ten tomatoes, I managed

a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I plastered on a grin.

“You sure?” He frowned, soft brown eyes filled with concern, and I felt about two inches

tall.

“Yeah. Yeah, Nic, I’m fine.” And now I felt like shit for scaring him. I offered him a small

grin, eating my food with a little more gusto, hoping that he wouldn’t see through me.

He was good at that shit.

But this time, he didn’t; or maybe just pretended not to. He was good at that, too.

It was halfway through our lunch that I saw it. The huge ship that I knew belonged to

 _Zephyr_. I choked for a second time, dropping my drink with a clatter. Nic startled,

glancing behind us, and I saw the moment he noticed them. He sucked in a sharp

breath, already half on his feet.

“We need to get back to the _Falcon_.” He murmured, “let Rook know.”

“Yeah.” I pushed to my feet, too, more calmly, and put my hand on his shoulder to

keep him just as steady. The last thing we needed was to draw attention. This close,

though, he smelled of cinnamon and oil- a sharp, rather interesting smell that wasn’t

entirely unpleasant. And _incredibly_ noticeable, right now. His skin was smooth and

dark, surprisingly soft, and I pulled my hand away quickly.

We moved down through the crowd, heads down- I could see Samandriel now, talking

to another man I didn’t know. Small and dark, he was obviously not human. His ears

were _huge_ , fox ears, and a fluffy black tail waved lazily behind him. Much like the race

of cat-people, their world had also been home to shape-shifters like this one.  I’d seen

them up close before, but generally only when they were trying to kill me. Most of

them were bounty hunters or mercs. And then it was generally only in fully shifted

form. This was new, and in any other situation I would have been all too tempted to go

make a new friend. Or ‘friend’, as the case may be.

What? I didn’t get _it_ much, okay? A boy has his needs.

But now wasn’t the time or place, and we pushed through until I saw Callista there in

the middle of a crowd. She had, apparently, found a drinking contest to win.

“Callista.” I grabbed her elbow. Fucking wonderful. Just what we needed right now. I

knew the woman could hold her booze, but the timing could _not_ have been worse. “Callista, we have a problem.”

 

She blinked, and I could see a glimmer of sobriety in her eyes, trying to emerge. Rook

and Callista had the freakish ability to sober up when they needed to; they’d usually

pass out right after, but for that moment, they were as bright eyed and bushy tailed as

a Felae.

“What problem?” She shoved away from the table. Her opponent grunted a _hey_!, but

she reached out and put a hand against his face,  giving him a firm shove that sent him

staggering back into his seat.

“Not now, sweetheart. _What problem_ , Bast?”

“We saw the _Bastion’s_ crew in the square.” I glanced at Nic.  She frowned at us, and

then shrugged.

“So let them start trouble. We can finish it.”

“We don’t _want_ to finish it, Callista!” Nic moaned, head in hands. “There’s no reason to

start a shoot-out in public!”

She shrugged again, and already I could see her fading back into the fog of drink.

 _Dammit, woman_.

“ _Callista_.”

“What? I told you, we can manage.”

“And _Nic_ told you we don’t want to have to-“

“Nic doesn’t have the stomach for this job.” Callista snorted, and I winced on his

behalf. His expression closed down, and he threw his hands up.

“Fine. You want a shoot out in the middle of a public space, _fine_.” He turned on his

heel. “I don’t have to see it.”

I reached out to catch his arm, sighing.

“Nic, c’mon, wait-“

He gave me an irritated stare- I felt more than a little trapped, between his and

Callista’s irritated one. Finally, she heaved a sigh.

“Okay, okay. If this is gonna be a problem-“

“No, Callista, the people who want us captured or dead aren’t a potential problem _at_

 _all_ -“

She waved me off. “Pout at me later.” She stretched, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Let’s go find Rook.”

She lead us deeper into the crowd. I kept half an eye on the people around us,

watching for anyone from the crew of he _Bastion_. I didn’t see anyone else though, and

we quickly slipped back onto the small skiff once more. I reached out to touch Nic’s

arm, a little startled when he pulled away irritably. “Nic?” I asked, quiet and careful, not

sure what exactly was so wrong or why I felt so timid about confronting him over it. It

wasn’t like confrontations in public were _new_ to us.

He sent me a sideways glance, then his face softened and he sighed. “Nothing. It’s

nothing, Bast.”

It wasn’t. I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, and even I could see that

much. Still, I didn’t know _how_ to fix this, or even what I was trying to fix. I didn’t know

how to comfort him.

So I didn’t say anything.

Sometimes, I wonder if I had- if I’d been able to stop what happened later. If it would

have happened at all.

I don’t like to look at it too hard.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, please forgive the formatting weirdness. I don't have much option. I've decided to just center each chapter!

The skiff took us to the _Gyrfalcon_ without incident, Callista was the first to disembark,

followed by Nic, then I. I couldn’t see anyone else off hand, let alone Rook, and while I

trusted Callista to find him, it made me worry. I slipped down below deck while she

went to see about finding him, behind Nic. He turned as the doors swung shut behind

us, and our eyes met for a moment before he smiled, crookedly.

“I had a good time today. At first, anyway.” At least he sounded more like himself

again. Or it _seemed_ that way- so I let it go.

Stupid. You could say I had an excuse, with everything going on, everything on my

mind.

You’d be wrong. I was _stupid_.

I slipped into my own cabin without giving it- without giving _him_ \- a second thought,

and saw Amarok on the upper bunk, sleeping. I couldn’t say I was much surprised-

for someone who’d been born on land, feet firmly on the ground, he took to the air

like a bird. He didn’t come ashore much- he preferred the ship. The motion seemed to

sooth him, somehow.  It amused the hell out of me.

“I expected you to be on shore longer.” Not asleep. He didn’t move or even look up,

though.

“Yeah, well. We had company.”

“Company?”

Now he sat up. I flopped onto the lower bunk, leaning back on my hands.

“The _Bastion_ docked behind us. Just by a few minutes.”

“They just don’t quit, do they?”

I snorted roughly, leaning my head back. “I think we just have shitty luck, personally.”

He echoed my snort. “It took you this long to figure that out?”

I grinned a little, despite myself, and gave a small shrug.

“So.” He went on. “ I assume the plan is to lay low?”

“As best I can tell. Where’s Rook?”

“I’m not sure.”  Amarok shrugged slightly. “I thought he went ashore.”

It was a big city- it was entirely possible we’d simply…missed him. Still, it put my

hackles up. I’d learned not to ignore my instincts when they were screaming at me, and

they were now.

“Callista should know.”

“She probably already does.” I wasn’t sure if Amarok was trying to make me feel better

or just trying to make me shut up- I could _feel_ the ‘little brother is being paranoid’

scolding in his tone. “And Rook is a big boy, Bast, he doesn’t need a baby sitter.”

No, he didn’t, but yeah, he did. If anyone could find trouble, it was Rook. With the crew

of the _Bastion_ so close, I couldn’t relax, and Amarok treating me like a five year old

wasn’t helping.

“Still.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Bast.” And he ruffled my damn hair, reaching down to do it. I

swatted at his hand irritably.

“You don’t know that.”  I snapped, and be blinked and pulled his hand away. He

frowned slightly, then-

“Okay. What’s _really_   got your panties in a twist?”  

Amarok- tactful and subtle as ever.

“Nic is acting weird.” I found myself saying, without entirely giving myself permission

to start speaking. That’s something else Amarok could do- get you to start _talking_ , to

admit things bothering you. He _listened_ \- quietly, patiently. It forced you to start

talking even if you didn’t want to; the way he looked at you, as if looking through you,

was just- intense.

“Weird?” He asked, quiet prodding, and I realized with a small wince that _maybe_ it

wasn’t entirely _just_ Nic acting- off. My brain wasn’t exactly helping the situation.

“He just- seems off.” I managed, after a moment. “He’s acting- strange. Like

something’s bothering him. And I can’t stop- I mean, I keep thinking I-“

“You keep thinking?...” Amarok arched an eyebrow, and I swear there was amusement

on his face, subtly in his eyes. I groaned and swatted at him, as he chuckled softly under his breath. “Thinking what?” He added, a little more seriously.

“Just. About- just. Noticing things I normally- don’t- you know-“

“Bast, I love you, but you couldn’t be more blind if I put a blindfold on you myself.”

“Hey!” For the second time in about as many weeks, I was forced to defend myself and my honor. I scowled, hand over my heart in outrage that was only half-faked.

“Hey nothing.” He arched a brow at me. “You’re as dumb as a post when it comes to _people_ , little brother, smart as you are.”

That stung. It _stung_ , because it was true. I’ve never been good at people, at signals.  

So I bit back. I shouldn’t have, but I did, because everything was already weird and on

edge and-

“You have room to talk.” I said, and I barked it with more force then I needed to.  “After

all, it’s not _me_ they call golem.”

I went too far. I knew it instantly- snapped my jaw shut and flinched back before he’d

even sat up. I knew his reputation, and I knew how unfounded it was, and I knew it

bothered him more than he ever let on.  I blinked, then lowered my head- backing

down. Submitting, if you want. I’d gone too far and I was very willing to admit it. “Look.

Amarok, I-“

“It’s fine.” His tone was curt but not sharp- I wished it had been. It was calm and

unruffled, which meant he had ‘turned off’, so to speak. He shut down, went cold;

stopped caring. That’s what Amarok has always done when he gets upset. He ‘turns

off’. This was no different.

“You asked me what’s going on with Nik and I’m telling you that maybe you should

look at yourself- and what you do to him- more closely. You either listen to me or you

don’t- that’s up to you. Either way, get your head out of your _ass_.”

Oh. _There_ was the anger.

I deserved that.

I still wasn’t sure how to handle anything happening right now- or Nik- but I did know

I deserved that.

“Fine. Whatever.” I threw my hands up petulantly so it wouldn’t seem like I was just

 _totally_  giving in. “We just got totally off-topic anyway-“

“The topic was over. Rook can take care of himself, and you don’t need to worry about

him.”  He stood, ignoring my exasperated noise.

“But-“

“But _nothing_. Enough, Bast.”

“I’m not just your little brother , Amarok, not anymore.”

“But you _are_ my little brother, first and formost.” Again, he didn’t snap, and I wished he

had. “And overthinking.”

I gave up. He wasn’t listening and it wasn’t…totally new to me. “Fine. Yeah, okay,

Amarok.”

He knew I was just saying it to shut him up. Of course he did. He didn’t care. He gave

me a small smile anyway, ruffled my hair, and patted my shoulder.

 

“I’ll get you for dinner.”

I sighed and flopped down on the bunk.

Some things never change. Not really.

I must have fallen asleep.

When I woke up, Amarok was gone and the room was dark. I immediately remembered

the entire fiasco and groaned, flopping back down against my pillow.

Jesus, I was an asshole. I put my head in my hands, wincing for a minute, then swung

my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

Weird. Amarok had said he’d call me for dinner, and I’d obviously been asleep for

some time. Amarok didn’t forget stuff like that, not for no reason. And he wasn’t-he

hadn’t been angry enough at me to just _ignore_ me. If anything, he didn’t get why _I_ was

so angry. Hell, I wasn’t sure I did, if I was being honest with myself.

 

At some point, he’d taken my shoes and weapons belt off. I remembered, distantly,

what he’d said about being his little brother first- once a big brother, always a big

brother, I guess. I felt about two inches tall.

I lurched into a pair of pant and grabbed my weapons belt before heading back up on

deck, still fighting that weirdly creeped out feeling; something that said pulling open

the door to the deck was a bad idea, the worst idea I could possibly have, that I

shouldn’t- _shouldn’t_ -

What the hell?

I paused, took a deep breath, and tugged open the door- 

-to find the sky on fire.

I froze, stunned and horrified. The world was twisting, and the ship only just holding together. I pressed forward against my better judgement, common sense _screaming_ at me to get my ass back down below, Rook’s name on my lips. It was stolen away by heat before I could get more then a croak out, coughing violently. I sucked in a breath painfully and tried again; it worked this time, though my voice was ragged and broken.

“ _Rook!”_ I wasn’t sure if it was the heat and ash that stole my voice or emotion, and I didn’t care. I just knew I needed to find Rook. To find _anyone_.

And no one was answering me. That _scared_ me. The world could set itself on fire all it liked; so long as my crew was there, so long as Rook was responding, was with me, everything was fine. Everything _would be_ fine.

They weren’t answering, and they wouldn’t do that. Not now.

 

I made my way further up the dock, hand still pressed to my nose and mouth. I couldn’t call out again and what was more, I was starting to feel like I _shouldn’t_. Like if I did, if I made _any_ loud noise, I’d-

-something bad would happen.

Okay, something _worse_ would happen.

Something terrible. Something that would make this look _fine_ and acceptable by comparison. I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.

I had to.

So I did.

I instantly inhaled the fumes and smoke, gagging, doubling over, and when I could finally get a full breath and straighten up-

Jesus fucking _hell_ , I wished I hadn’t.

A Visitor hovered over me.

Visitors. The main culprit for the disaster that had hit our world. Beautiful, in a twisted way. Powerful.

He was easily eight feet tall or more, with legs for _days_ and skin as black as coal. Not like, _black person_ dark but honestly, legitimately, black as a night sky _black_. Silvery tattoos trailed their way down nearly every inch of his pitch skin- and I could _see_ every inch. He was as naked as a damn jay bird. Most of them were-  clothes seemed pretty foreign as an idea to them. His whip-like tail was about half his body length and his wings were at _least_ twice as long as he was tall. He was jointed and moved like a spider, with a head like some strange bug. The face was elongated with a rounded bulge on top of his skull and no hair to speak of. Each hand had only three fingers- the thumbs were newa little shorter then the rest of them. They hadn’t had those when they’d first come here- but apparently they adapted to whatever race they conquered. They wanted to better ‘fit’ the race they were now in control of.   
  
  
  
This one hovered above me on bat wings, long and slender and made of flesh just a little darker then the rest of him. They flared, as did his eyes- as red as blood, and they _paralyzed_ me. I couldn’t move. I could barely _breathe_.

The world around me seemed to slow toa crawl. Nothing existed outside those eyes.   
  
And then he blinked, and I felt the flames, the burning, and Jesus, _Jesus_ , it hurt, it _hurt_. The fire tore at my skin, burned my eyes and throat, and I couldn’t help but scream. Once I did, it was like I’d broken down the flood gates. I screamed and screamed- screamed as I fell to my knees, screamed as I burned and tried to put myself out, to inhale, to free myself from that _gaze_ , locked on me again-

-and then I woke up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *FIXED FORMATTING ISSUES*

“Bast. Bast! Wake up- wake up, little brother-“  
The voice was someone I knew- someone I was close to- little brother-  
It was comfort and familiar, home and warm. Safe.  
Hands on me, grabbing me, holding me- not down, but simply holding, wrapped tight and solid in his arms. Amarok. Amarok’s hands on me, his face close, voice low and soothing- not yelling, but urgent. I blinked, choking, gasping for air. Air I could breathe, not burning, not hot. 

A dream. I’d been dreaming. Right. I remembered now.  
“Easy, easy. There you are, there you go, come back.” He murmured, rubbing my arms. 

I nodded, tightening my grip on him to try and let him know that I was alert again. I’m always grateful to Amarok’s ability to understand me without words, but right then more then ever. I didn’t have words. I couldn’t find them- could barely fucking breathe still. Could barely think.  
“It’s okay.” He said again, pushing my hair back from my eyes. I felt the panic melting away, pushed to the back of my mind by familiar eyes and a familiar touch. 

“I know.” I managed, at last. “Just- a dream. A- really fucked up dream.” 

Come to that, it had been months since I’d had a nightmare about the Visitors. Why now? Hell, why so damn violently? So damn personal? It’d never been like that. 

“Hell of a violent dream.” He held up a shredded pillow. “What did this ever do to you?” 

“It tried to kill my mother.” I grunted back. “I told you it was a fucked up dream, Amarok.” I tucked the ripped pillow under my face, flopping down on it with a grunt. “Is it time for food?”  
I wasn’t actually hungry at all, but if Amarok knew that, he’d go from worried to alarmed. And I wanted to change the fucking subject. I didn’t want to talk to Amarok about having bad dreams like a little boy. I didn’t want to admit that, even though I’d never been hurt by the Visitors, hadn’t ever even seen one up close before for real, that I was all but wetting my fucking pants. It was embarrassing, okay? Yeah, the Visitors were intimidating and even down right scary, but I didn’t have any fucking reason to be dreaming about them and on the verge of tears like a damn kid. 

Even my parents- hell, they’d made a choice. It wasn’t like the Visitors had bashed in our front door and murdered them.  
I was okay. Not fucked up. And not having fucking nightmares like a ten year old.  
“Bast.” Amarok’s voice was softer, more gentle, and I hated it. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want sympathy. 

“I’m fine. Is it time to eat?”

“…Yeah.” He sighed heavily and patted my shoulderblades once. “Yeah. C’mon.” 

I pushed up off the bed, getting dressed and grabbing my weapons for real this time. Amarok waited for me, like some kind of fucking sentential- I thught about telling him to fuck off out of the cabin, but didn’t. Couldn’t. There was no point, anyway. He wouldn’t have done. 

I know my big brother. 

“Rook back?” 

He paused, just long enough for me to see the lie he considered- considered and then rejected. Smart move. 

“No. But he contacted Callista about half an hour ago. He’s alright.”  
Something wasn’t being said- I could tell. But asking wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. If anyone was gonna tell me, it would be one of the others. Probably Harli or Synclair. 

If anyone told me. 

Sometimes it really sucks being the youngest, especially when you’ve proven yourself a half a dozen times over. 

“Yeah. Okay. Good.” I followed him up the stairs, back to the main deck, slipping into the galley doors. 

The noise and life instantly made me feel stable again- better. The dream became just a dream, nothing more, and I settled in beside Piper, who flashed me a smile. 

“How was shore leave?” 

“You mean before or after Zephyr showed up and Rook took off without a word?” It came out sharper then I’d intended, and her smile faded. 

“Before.” Was the more subdued answer, and I cringed. Jesus, I was being an asshole to literally everyone today. 

“Nice.” I muttered, reaching for the food splayed out along the table. “It was- nice.” 

She didn’t react at first, and I was afraid I was going to have to manage a full, real apology, but then she gave me a tiny smile and sly, sideways glance. 

“With Nic.” 

I choked. Again. Fuck, that needed to stop happening.  
“What? “ 

“I just mean-“ She giggled now, hand over her mouth in amusement. “You and he took off alone together and everything…”  
“Shut up. No. Stop right the fuck now.” I gritted. She chuckled, ignoring my wrath like you’d ignore a puppy barking at a leaf. I rolled my eyes with a huff. She chuckled and opened her mouth to reply when the door opened. 

Rook was there, and he- didn’t look good. Exhausted and grim, his normally laughing eyes dark and shadowed, lips set in a thin line. It was Syncclair who pushed to his feet, chair scrapping back. 

“Rook?” Was his quiet, unsure question, and I wasn’t sure why for a minute. Then I saw what and who was behind him. 

“…Rook.” Amarok’s voice was far more assertive then Synclair. Tense and sharp, I could hear the danger ringing in it. “Why is he here?” 

“Because.” Samandriel smiled, thinly, Pik sniffing the air wildly on his shoulder. “We need to talk.” 

Piper bit her lip softly, glancing towards the rest of us. Harli patted her leg gently, reassuringly, and Amarok’s hand came down on my shoulder. 

“And what, exactly, are we talking about?” Synclair’s voice was as cold as ice- his entire body had gone on full lock-down, tone waspish and leery. I could see his hand on the weapons belt at his side. Syn’s a bow user, but he keeps a wicked little knife on hand. Or ten.

Samandriel didn’t look as upset as you’d maybe expect someone abruptly on the wrong end of a small army’s weapons should. He closed the door gently behind himself, his wings shuffling, eyes flickering to each of us. 

“About what Zephyr has found.” He replied at last, “and can’t handle alone.”  
Callista’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline, and Synclair fell back into his chair with a huff like an offended cat. 

“So you come to us?” I heard myself ask, mostly without my own permission, it seemed. “Why us?” 

Those cool eyes snapped to me, and Pik popped up over his shoulder, fur now a strange reddish-blue. “Yes.” He said, and his voice was deep and calm, cool and steady, and- frankly- hot as hell. I’d never heard him so well, and his voice was so bell-clear that it was a little unnerving. “I did come to you. You are the only ones that not placacent fools.” 

“How so? About what?” Amarok took over, and his voice had the aurhotirt and demand mine didn’t- never did. I’m not…like that. I’m not authoritive or strong or- 

What can I say? I’m the beta, Amarok’s the alpha, and everyone knows it. It works. It sucks, but it works. I don’t want to be in charge. 

I just also wish I didn’t sound like a kid compared to him. 

“I think we should all sit down.” Rook stepped in, calmly, already en route to doing just that. There was a long pause before Amarok relaxed- or at least sat down. I could all but see him coiled like a snake; all but smell the tension. No one else seemed much better- no one but Rook, but then, that wasn’t unusual. Rook’s good at that- being relaxed and calm in a terse situation. 

“Okay. Start talking.” Piper demanded sharply, lips thin and eyes cool and unfriendly. “We’re sitting.” 

Samandriel took his own seat, steepling his fingers for a moment before he spoke. 

“The world is going to end.” 

…Well. That wasn’t dramatic at all. 

“Ooookay, Zephyr’s employing crazy doomsayers lately, good to know-“ Synclair began, but as he started to rise, Rook slammed his palm down on the table hard enough to make us all jump. 

“Synclair, sit down.” His normally jovial voice was- sharp. He barked that, and Rook doesn’t- bark at people. He’s not harsh and demanding like that. Stunned silence for a minute, and then Harli spoke up. 

“Do you want to clarify, or are we all supposed to fall into a blind panic now?” 

Amarok snorted, something nearly a laugh, before he swallowed it down with a hand over his mouth. I grinned down at the table- there was a reason Harli and my brother worked so well together, and that least in part was it. 

Pik’s color turned even more red, and he showed tiny teeth, bristling at Harli- and then Samandriel reached up and pressed a hand to Pik’s back, gentle and firm. “None of you noticed it?” He asked, arching an eyebrow in a way that screamed ‘I am superior to you and all that you think you are.’ I kind of wanted to punch him. Right in that damned eyebrow. 

“The way magical items are getting harder and harder to find? The way the nights are getting darker?” He shifted his gaze to look at us all, questioning and intensely direct. “None of you notice that Visitors are letting themselves be seen far more often? That they seem to be looking for someone- or something?” He barked a laugh. 

“Unobservant, for a bunch of thieves.” He grunted, and I felt myself snarl. Amarok tightened his grip on me warningly. 

“Point, Samandriel.” He demanded, coolly. His voice lacked the anger I felt- and knew he did, too. Or lacked it to any outsider; I could hear it, loud and fucking clear, and it was terrifying. Jesus, even to me, it was terrifying. 

“My point is,” the man gritted, and for the first time his amused, tolerant tone ramped up into something that sounded like anger, like someone walking the edge of a very dangerous, sharp blade. “that the other members of the Order refuse to listen to us. They are happily oblivious and want us to be as well.” His face told us all we needed to know about how he felt on that little idea. 

“And Zephyr knows you’re here?” Piper asked, eyebrows lifted. 

“He doesn’t.” Samandriel grinned, just a little, but it was impish and brilliant, lighting up his entire damn face. “I’ll tell him, once I know your answer.” 

“Answer?” Sue me, I wanted to be totally clear what it was we were getting ourselves into here. That grin spread, crooked and showing one just ever so slightly too pointed canine. 

“Truce?” He drawled, and the word had never sounded less innocent. 

Rook rolled his eyes with a small smirk of his own. “Samandriel and Pik want us to work with them.” He clarified. “With the crew of the Bastion. Once Zephyr is- more aware of this arrangement, of course.” 

“Of course.” I drawled back, mockingly, rolling my own eyes.”Daddy will be angry otherwise.” I gave Samandriel a smirk and a wave. He shot me an irritated glare but nothing else- whether because he thought he was better then that- then me- or he knew to keep his cool in enemy territory. 

“As would your own Rook.” He replied calmly, bemused, and Callista bristled. 

“Whoa, down, boys and girls, calm your tits.” Rook hit the table again, less forcefully this time. “Corners or everyone is grounded. No dessert for a week.” More seriously, he added- “I’ve seen what Sam is talking about, and he’s right. We have something strange going on lately, and something bigger then the two groups of us. Or any of us individually. And the best way to figure out what it is, is by growing the fuck up and not trying to kill each other for ten minutes.” 

He glanced over to Samandriel. “That goes for you, too. You came to us, not the other way round, recall.” 

Samandriel gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and visibly pulled in a breath. On letting it out, he spoke, airy and annoyed.  
“And if you kick me off the ship, we are all equally doomed.”  
“No one said anything about kicking you out.” Rook pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we all play nice?”

Amarock paused, then lowered his bulk into his chair again, his other hand still firmly on my shoulder. “What, exactly, are we supposed to do about this?”

“That’s the fun part.” Samandriel held out a hand and let Pik race down his arm to the table. “We need to find what the Visitors are after before they do.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” I folded my arms demandingly.

“Easy. The Bastion is an Order ship, remember.” Samandriel shrugged. “We have access to the locations of the most powerful magical artifacts in the world. If it exists, we can find it.”  
“Jesus, Sam, there’s got to be hundreds of artifacts powerful enough for the Visitors to want.”

But Samandriel was shaking his head at me. “You’d think so, but thank God, no. Only certain artifacts give off the… sense … they’re looking for.”  
“Sense?” Piper spoke up. Samandriel nodded, reaching out a hand to caress Pik’s back lightly.

“They… smell… what they’re looking for. For lack of a better word.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s not accurate, not really, but it’s close.”  
“So how do we find them?” I asked, which I felt was sort of important. If these were things only the Visitors could sense, then how the hell-

“I have a contact.” Sam shrugged.  
A contact. I frowned. He expected us to just- trust that? Trust him, utterly blindly like that?  
I’m not generally good at that shit and that’s without there being Visitors involved.

“You just expect us to trust that?” Synclair spoke almost exactly what I was thinking. He may have been stuck up, but he wasn’t stupid by a long shot.

“I don’t think you have a choice.” Samandriel lifted Pik- Dull red, now, with traces of white- and put him back on his shoulder. “You all know that as well as I do.”  
“I trust him.” Rook’s voice was calm and level, and his eyes locked on each of ours, one by one. “If it counts for anything in my men.”

Oh, ouch. Low blow. That- he knew we trusted him. Even if-

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Rook.” Callista sighed, after a minute. She pushed back from the table. “Both of you.”

“Of course we do.” Rook flashed her a charming smile. “And I think it’s time we get started.”

Harli reached out to Amarock, who calmly closed a hand around his wrist comfortingly. It was a subtle but warm gesture, and I saw his thumb working up and down along his skin. 

He was scared. 

My big brother was scared.


	7. Chapter 7

Even to him, the Visitors were terrifying. He didn't know anyone who wasn't at least mildly unnerved by them- their status didn't make any difference. 

Still, they listened well enough. And Aleksander seemed to know how to speak to them. Fearless of them, too- or at least very good at faking it. He stood, head up, jaw set, barking orders in the chittering, strange language that was natural to them. He wasn't entirely sure that they were supposed to be able to speak it- but there were some, natural or no, that could. Some who even claimed it to be more natural then their own tounge. 

He put his head down to gently rest on Astral's head. She whined, nuzzling up into it and wagging her tail slowly. Alekz finally finished his discussion, moving back over to us. 

"Dmitri." 

He murmured, dipping his head, respectfully. "Where is your sister?" 

"Back at the inn." Where they were staying. They rarely ever docked, in their search, but they were exhausted and had a good tip that they might- maybe- have found where their target would be headed next.   
They may very well find their goal simply by waiting for him- and God, he hoped so. He was so tired of chasing and hoping. So tired of being let down and failing.   
They were close now- so close Dmitri could taste it. Soon, their family would be whole again. 

He just wished the Visitors weren't needed to make it happen. But then, the Visitors- or, as they were called properly, Minathi-had always been an unfortunate side effect of their race. He'd be just as happy to see them locked up where they'd come from and never have to see them again. Never have to see another world destroyed because of them. 

"Dmitri." Alekzander's hand landed, lightly, on his arm, and that touch alone was enough to make him jump, ever so slightly. 

"I'm fine." He assured, quickly. "Just- thinking. Only thinking." 

"I can practically smell the smoke." Alekzander smiled, but it was thin and wry. He tightened his grip on the younger man's shoulder, and it warmed and gentled when he saw the concerned, strained look on his face. "Be honest with me, little one." 

Little one. It had been so long since he'd been called that. 

He pushed a hand through his hair, finally turning to fully face the older man- but before he could speak, Dmitri spoke again. "I do worry myself. About what will happen when we find him." 

He felt his expression harden. "What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, wary and low, eyebrows arched up to his hairline. Alekz had never brought up any concerns like this before, and he was worried the Visitors may have said or done- something. 

 

"Only that the measures taken to Awaken him might have to be- drastic." 

"Drastic- how?" He felt himself bristle, slowly but surely. "This is my brother, Alekz, that we're talking about-" 

 

"I know, I know." The older man held his hands up, guesturingly plactingly, his eyebrows up. "Only that he has fought this for so long-" 

"He'll listen." Dmitri sliced his hand across the air, like a knife, cutting off the line of thought that his brother would ever become like those things, like the Visitors. 

That's what made them. Anyone who could Awaken, who fought it for too long, too hard, who didn't embrace their secondary form- they become Visitors. 

"I'll make him listen. He's my brother." 

"And how much does that mean, any longer?" The words stung like fire, and he set his jaw defiantly. 

"How dare-" 

"I'm only trying to keep you realistic. From being hurt-" 

"He'll listen!" His voice was terser then he'd intended, and he took a deep breath, jaw set, trying to keep himself under control. 

"Just. Let me handle it. When he arrives." 

Alekz stepped away from him, sighing and pushing a hand through his hair. 

"I trust you, lad." He murmured. "I just hope he will, too."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bast flies. Oh, wait- no. That's falling.

It took a few days, waiting for anything to happen. A few days of uncertain pacing, docking from city to city, waiting and watching fro Zephyr's ship to appear, following us, and hail us. 

"If he doesn't agree, I trust Sinclair will find a way to let us know." Rook said, but I knew him too well to believe that he had utter faith in it. 

I knew his expressions. I knew his voice. 

Knew he was worried, and it was contagious. It was like a tangible force in the air- the silence was heavy, and I finally couldn't stop myself. I had to do something. I was taking a chance that needed to be taken. 

That was why I was in Amarok's room, carefully balancing a bucket of water on his door. 

He was going to murder me. It was going to be worth it. 

I hoped. 

God, we needed to laugh, though. We needed something like normalcy because everyone was on edge and tense and it was making all of the ship feel like a courtroom. A courtroom with a particularly bad verdict incoming. 

 

"Bast?" Annnnd that was me nearly falling on my ass, hissing and wobbling, grabbing the bucket. 

"Coming!" 

I clambered down less gracefully then I would have liked to claim, brushing my hair behind my ears and diving for a chair just time for Harli to walk around the corner. He lifted his eyebrows to his hairline, 

"What did you do?" 

"Hurtful!" I placed a hand over my heart. "I'm just in here resting-" 

 

"Right, okay." He quirked a half-grin. "Resting." 

"I've been working hard!" I protested, my voice arching and cracking with the sheer wounded hurt that I was feeling at that exact moment. His eyebrows furrowed now, a grin twitching the corners of his lips. 

"He's going to murder you." 

"Yeah, well, I'm prepared to sacrifice myself for the cause." I grinned. "Besides, Amarock wouldn't hurt me." 

"No?" He quirked an eyebrow- just one, this time- and snorted a laugh. "I think most people would beg to differ." 

"Most people don't know him." I pointed out, and it was true; but Harli did, and I knew he wasn't serious, anyway. "And most people would say that I deserved it, anyway." 

"You usually do." He chuckled softly. "That's not why I came down here, anyway." 

 

"Then why'd you come down here?" 

"Rook's asking after you." His face sobered, and I saw something in his eyes; something glinting and suspicious and curious, something sharp and intelligent. You couldn't really keep much from him; from any of us, really. Rook picked his people carefully and by hand- they were all smart, they were all wary, and they were all hard to fool. 

"Why?" I blinked, checking the door and the water bucket balanced on top. 

"I wouldn't know. He wouldn't tell me. Just that he wanted to see you." 

 

I frowned but shrugged-worst case scenario, I missed the show. Disappointing, but God knew I'd hear it from halfway across the ship. 

 

Come to that, it might be best if I was...far away. Very far away. Very soon. 

I slipped out of the room after him, as he lead the way down the too-silent hall and towards Rook's room. He split off half-way, to slip into the main crew quarters, where I could see Amarok waiting, arm slung over the back of a chair, book in hand. As I watched, Harli moved to him, curling under his arm on the seat next to him, happy as a kitten. 

Cute. 

 

Past the crew quarters and down the long, clean walkways until I came to the ladder that lead up to 

 

Rook's cabin. I pounded twice on the wall beside it, dropping it down and clambering up. 

Rook was waiting for me, tucked into a high backed chair like a king. His face, though, was somber and still, something dark in his eyes. 

 

"Rook?" I asked, and found that the something on his face had my voice coming out small and thready. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Rook. You wanted to see me?" Better. I didn’t sound like a prepubescent teenager that time, anyway. 

He blinked once, twice, and then seemed to breathe for the first time. Seemed to move for the first time. "What do you think?" It was a low, nearly subsonic rumble. I'd never heard him sound like that before. 

And I knew. I knew what he was looking for. 

I couldn't give it to him. 

I wouldn't. 

"I think if he's right, then this is the only chance we have." I was avoiding, and he knew it. His eyes flicked down, then back up to my face. 

"Ba-" 

And then the entire ship rocked violently to one side. 

Staggering, I caught myself on the wall, as Rook pitched from the seat. He straightened, and we shared a single glance before we bolted out the door as one unit. 

Another blow rocked the ship, and I saw Amarok slip from his room, shirtless, Harli just behind. 

"What the hell hit us?" Rook barked, though I didn't hear the answer. I was speeding up, flying past the bedrooms and out to the hull. Nic was already up there, his hair a frazzled mess, a smear of blood across one cheek. 

 

"What's happened?" Rook demanded, already in full captain mode. 

"I'm not sure. Something slammed into us from below. Whatever it is, it's not letting us get a bead on it." 

 

"Then I'm going topside." 

"We can't expand. We'll lose speed. Plus that's suicide, Rook." Nik snapped back. 

"Don't tell me my business, engineer-" 

"He's right/" Callista took Rook's arm, practically fucking materializing on the deck from somewhere. That woman had to learn how to make noise when she Goddamn moved. "You can't-" 

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do on my own bloody ship!" He snapped back, already pushing past Nik. 

I held a hand up, then wished I hadn't as the ship rocked again. Amarok grabbed my elbow, shooting me a sharp look of reprimand. 

"I know, I know. Air legs." I growled. "Later. Right now, we have the little problem of our captain is about to go on deck mid-attack from something." 

"This is my ship. And if you have a problem with my orders, you can put yourself in the brig and wait for me there!" 

Stunned silence descended. Rarely did Rook ever speak to us like that. 

I knew someone who did, though- and it made me nervous as hell. 

"Rook-" 

"Not now, Bast!" He whirled to face me. He face lacked any of it's customary humor- his eyes cold and distant. 

Thaaaat was my concern racking up about fourty notches, right there. But he was right- now wasn't the time. 

Or maybe it was exactly the time. Maybe if I hadn't shut my mouth with a sharp snap I could have- I don't know. 

"Yes, sir." The words came out like hard stones, rough and sharp from my throat. To Nik- "Lower the deck." 

His face was set and grim as we rocked again, violently. 

"Bast-" 

"Lower the Goddamn deck, Nik." 

"Lowering the deck." He gritted, his eyes locked on mine- this is a bad choice, you know this is a bad choice-and then he was doing it. There was the grind of gears and screech of the ship being made to do something it wasn't really, technically, supposed to do. 

Transformation is mid-flight wasn't impossible, but it was always hard on a ship- especially one moving at our speed. Especially one being buffeted the way we were. It made the whole damn thing shudder and groan, and when we took another hit, we damn near rolled mid-air. 

"What the hell is rocking us?" Synclair came up on deck finally, Amarok caught his arm, steadying him with a big hand. 

"Can't tell." He murmured. "Not another ship, though. Doesn't feel right." 

 

"You see anything?" Harli asked, also using Amarok as a rock. Somehow, he was steady as a boulder. Somehow, superior prick. I, meanwhile, had air-legs like I hadn't in years, slamming into Piper, who squeaked and fell into Callista, who- 

-looked annoyed and didn't so much as twitch. 

How? 

I opened my mouth to ask, with my usual stellar timing, then snapped it shut again at Amarok's stare. He didn't even need words, not anymore. I knew scolding when I saw it. I cinrged away, then turned away- 

-just in time to feel the ship rock again, more violently. Too violently. With the half-extended deck, we couldn't hold, couldn't hold, and I felt something everyone tells horror stories about but you never think you'll experience. 

We tipped. Like a giant, air-born cow, we tipped onto our side. Amarok's scolding expression turned into one of alarm, and he grabbed Harli around the waist, tucking him securely against his chest. He reached out a hand to me- and I felt the brush of his fingers, the whisper of safety, before it was violently snatched away. 

The ship bucked again, and I slammed backwards into Synclair. He grunted as I took the wind out of him, and then I was tumbling again, no time to get my bearings. I couldn't tell what was happening anymore. There was no time to even wonder what had hit us- what was going on. I hear Amarok call- no, bellow- for me- and then I was falling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Books and covers, all that noise.

If you closed your eyes and pretend very hard, you could almost think of falling as flying. Wind rushing past your face, battering through your hair, chill and crisp, sharp and brisk. 

Try hard enough, because it's better than screaming your damn lungs out as you plummet down hard, hundreds of feet, so fast- too fast. 

I was falling face-up, towards the sun; I opened my eyes, against my own better judgment. I could see the ship- and I wished I hadn't. 

Rocs. We'd been hit by Rocs. 

I could see them now, an entire flock of them. Rocs were territorial as hell- they came through with the 

Visitors, and we'd all quickly learned to avoid them and the two hundred or so feet around them. And we'd flown straight into a flock? No. No way. We were better than that. 

Rook was better then that. 

So why? How? 

I blinked, slowly, reached a hand up to the light. It was warm and bright, and the wind streaming past me whistled cool and sharp. Not a bad way to go, if you had to go. I closed my   
eyes again, not wanting to let the rush turn into panic and screaming. And then I hit. 

I didn't die, obviously. 

I didn't die, but Goddamn it hurt. I landed hard on wood and metal, felt ribs crack, felt other bones creak and scream protest. 

Bounce. Roll. 

I hit the main mast of a ship, and- yeah, okay. I screamed, okay? I screamed like a little girl when already cracked ribs slammed into the main mast. Sobbing out a breath, I managed to bite back any more sound, teeth gritted. 

"Get him up." The voice was familiar, but I was hurting too much to pin it. "Get him up and get this ship closed down." 

"Have they spotted us?" Another familiar voice. Something furry and soft whispering over my cheek. 

"No. Anything else we can do for-" 

"No." Sharp, unyielding. "If we stay, they'll be on us, too." 

That voice I managed to place. Zephyr. I groaned, tried to push to my knees, and failed pathetically. 

"Ze-Amarok-" 

"Shut up, Bast. Get him up." 

"Amarok." I choked it out again, and felt wetness on my lips as a hand slid under my elbow. "Zephyr-" 

And then it was cut off in another scream that wrenched from me as I was pulled into a staggering walk after someone. "Hold on." They muttered, surprisingly gently. "Just hold on." 

And then my world faded to black. 

 

  
It wasn't the first time I'd passed out. It wasn't even the first time I'd passed out in the last few weeks. I felt like I should maybe be embarrassed about that. 

It didn't make waking up any more pleasant. 

I groaned, pressing a hand into my eyes. It hurt- everything hurt. Everything ached. God, my teeth ached. 

You don't realize that can be true until you feel it. I pried open my eyelids with another muffled groan, and the world slowly swam into vision. The first face I saw wasn't one of the familiar ones. it was a narrow, sharp-featured face, darked skinned, with pale, intelligent eyes- soft grey, nearly silver. There was a fine layer of stubble over his jaw and cheeks, black as pitch like the hair falling in a fine curtian below his shoulders. 

"Who- where-" 

"You're on the Bastion." The voice was the one I'd heard before- gentle and low, raspy as a pack a day smoker's and low. calm. "Don't move. You've got broken ribs, to start." 

Well. That- explained the throbbing pain, anyway. 

"What- how did you-" 

"We saw the flock. Saw the ship," 

I blinked and tried to clear my vision- tried to bring him into better focus. "Who?..." 

"You can call me Hendrix." The man finally came into sharper view. He was- tall. Really tall. Legs for days that led to- okay, that was a nice ass. Even now I had to admire. 

That stunning sense of timing once again. 

"Eyes are up here, kid." 

"Bast." I corrected, automatically. "Not a kid." It was the familiar argument that jarred me back to reality. 

"Where's-" I tried to jolt upright, and instantly regretted it. I didn't yell, but only because, for a moment, I couldn't breathe. There were hands on me, a cool, soothing voice, a low murmur, that smoke rough voice surprisingly kind. 

"Easy, easy. Lay back, dammit." He rasped, pressing a hand to my chest. "You're beat to hell-" 

"Where are the others?" Amarok. Amarok. He was still on the ship, had left my sight, had left my grip- 

God, he was dead. He had to be. He couldn't be. He couldn't. 

He wouldn't. They wouldn't. 

"I don't know." The answer was firm and pitiless. 

"You didn't save them?" The words rasped from my throat- I barely felt myself speak. 

"We could barely get into to catch you." The reply came sharp and quick. "The Rocs are dangerous on a day. We couldn't risk-" 

"My brother was on that ship!" I snarled, feeling rage rise in my chest like vomit. Like the actual vomit I could feel, also rising. I gagged, and then I was retching, violently. There was a hand on my back, supporting me, as I threw up into a bucket everything I'd eaten for the last week, or so it felt. When it had finally stopped, a glass of water was shoved into my hand, and I was pushed back. "Stay put." He snapped, "Or I'll sedate you." 

"You wouldn't dare." 

"Try me." 

He arched a brow, and, God help me, I didn't doubt him. Those eyes were cool and still, met mine with 

an intensity that- 

-Oh. 

God, no. No, I couldn't think of that, not now, but- 

God, he had gorgeous eyes. 

Bad timing bad timing- 

I lay back down, and now I felt the pain again. Breathing was hard- breathing hurt. 

"I've got you." 

He waited until I cought my breath, then held out two small pills I recognized as pain killers. 

"How sensative are you?" 

"To painkillers? Not very." 

It was true. Neither amarok nor I had ever been very susceptible to things like that. We'd never been 

sure if it was genetic, or if we'd just been spectacularly unlucky. 

Lucky? 

Fuck knew. 

"Good. Do you trust me?" 

And that was the question, wasn't it? Did I trust- Zephyr? 

Did I trust the crew that sailed under him? 

Honestly, I- wasn't sure. Rooke seemed to, at least to some degree. Rooke had always seemed to trust 

this ship- trust Zephyr. 

I didn't. 

I was in too much pain for it to matter. The pain in my ribs made up my mind for me. "Does it matter?" I   
asked, around a wry grin. "I hurt." 

He chuckled, a humorless sound. "Smart boy." He put the pills in my hand, offered the cup of water 

again. He helped me sit up, propped me gently until I had downed the pills and half the glass. 

"Okay, okay, slow down- enough." He pulled it away, and I gasped for air for a moment. It helped- not 

so much with the pain- that would come later. (Not as much later as you'd think, with what I just 

mentioned, being resistant to pain killers and all. These were some serious drugs, if they were what I 

imagined they were.) But my throat no longer felt like a desert, and I could speak without sounding like   
a frog. An old frog. 

"Thank you." I managed, after I caught my breath. 

"It's what I do." Came the reply, surprisingly quickly. "I'm a Healer." The way he said it implied the 

capitalization, and suddenly a lot of things made sense. Healers were pretty rare, to be honest. They 

were doctors turned up to eleven- something else that had come through with the Visitors. They looked 

as human as you or me, until you saw them Heal. Then they glowed, and I shit you not, they got 

these...wings. They were all different kinds of wings, too; Amarok's theory was that they reflected the 

kind of person they were. I'd only ever seen one other, and he'd had these...gorgeous, pure white things, 

huge and sprawling half-way across the room. The bigger they are, Amarok thought, the more power the   
person has. 

It was only a theory, though. Some loved Healers, some hated them, but very few would be anything but   
utterly polite to them. Sometimes out of respect- sometimes out of fear. Healers could stop your damn 

heart, if they wanted. From half-way across the room. 

Hell, depending on the power of them, they could stop it from half-way across the state. Still, even with 

all that power, they often relied on very obvious, normal means of healing; salves, bandages, pain meds,   
stitches. 

"Still." I managed. "Thanks. Where's Zephyr?" 

He was silent for a long moment, then- 

"I'll tell him you're awake." 

I felt the unamused smile tug at my lips. Of course he wouldn't tell me. That made sense; he had no 

more reason to trust me then I had to trust him. Any of them. 

"You do that." I drawled, letting myself slide back down onto the pillows. He checked my wound with 

calm, calloused hands, touch firm but gentle- I could feel his magic run across my skin in waves that 

were warm and soothing. It was only a moment later that he and his strange, intense eyes left the room, 

and I felt myself relax marginally. 

Jesus, I was in trouble. 

I rolled onto one side carefully, trying to think. How the hell was I going to find them? 

How the hell would I let them know I was alive? 

I clenched a fist in the blanket. No. I wouldn't do this to myself. I couldn't. I was a grown-ass man. I was   
capable. I wasn't a child, lost and alone- I wasn't helpless. I was on Zephyr's ship, and Zephyr wouldn't 

just-just take me in. Would he? Rooke had to like him for a reason- had to trust him for a reason. 

He wouldn't just drag me, injured, to the Order- leave my cre   
\ w, my brother, alone and broken out there, 

thinking I was dead. He wouldn't, And if he tried, I could stop him. I could get to some public 

communication terminal, get ahold of Amarok- Amarok, who was still alive, who had to be- and find the   
ship again. 

I was not hyperventilating. 

I was not crying. 

I didn't cry. 

It took nearly an hour for the door to open again- for Zephyr's steps to cross to my bed. He stood for a long moment, and then one hand landed, lightly, on my shoulder. 

I lashed out at it before I even really knew what I was doing. He moved back before I ever had hope of making contact, and all I managed to do was pull on my injuries and make myself double over, gasping, breathless, with pain. He stepped back, stared at me in silence for a moment. And then another. And finally, I couldn't take it anymore. 

"Well?" I snapped, twisting painfully to sit up and stare at him. "You've got a tongue, say something!" 

His eyebrow arched, his lips quirked, and he fixed me with a look so like Amarok's I was nearly cowed by it then and there out of pure instinct. I felt myself cringe down and back, despite myself. 

"Hello to you, too, Bast." He replied, quietly. "I take it you're feeling better?" His voice was a low, deep   
rumble when he wasn't raising it to be heard across decks. I was, loath as I was to admit it- feeling 

better, that was. I gave him a stiff nod, rolling over to meet his eyes. 

"Yeah." I grunted. I'm positive he could tell how much I didn't want to admit it. "Better." 

"Good." He took a seat in a chair near the bed, and only then did I see the bags under his eyes-the 

weariness in them. He looked-pained. Sad. Honestly, truthfully sad. "Bast," He began, again, "I'm sorry. I am-" 

"Don’t." I felt more then heard it- the sharp rasp out of my own throat. "Just- don't, Zephyr. There's 

nothing to be sorry for." I glared at him, as hard as I could muster, half out of my head and laying, 

pathetic and broken, on a hospital bed in the sick bay of a ship. "They're not dead." 

"...They're not dead." He echoed, after a long pause, staring at me, hard, right back. "But I'm sorry I had to leave them." 

That I would take. God knew he should be. Roo khad always trusted him, in some twisted, odd little 

way. Maybe not trust in the traditional sense of the word, but in some way- and Rook had let him 

down. Had left him behind. 

"You should be." I said it out loud, a vicious hiss- more then I expected it to be. The anger in my own 

voice took me by surprise. I had to be sure he knew. I had to be sure it hurt him. That he felt it, meant it.   
"Rook would have-" I stopped. Cut myself off. 

Because Rook would have trusted him. For reasons utterly unknown to me, he'd trust Zephyr-had 

always seemed to trust him. No one seemed to know why, or what the nuances of their relationship was, 

but it was simple truth. And he wouldn't lash out against him like this. 

"He would have trusted you." I finished, numbly, and felt the sob bubble up like further vomit. I bit it 

back hard, closed my eyes against it. Took one deep breath- two. Pressed fingers into my eyes hard and 

swallowed. 

"He would have." He agreed, solemnly. "And I wish I'd been able to do more." He shifted forward, 

steepling his fingers. "But there's one good thing in this cluster fuck. You're safe." 

It- wasn't what I'd been expecting. That was putting it lightly. 

"...what?" 

"You're safe, Bast." It didn't make a lot more sense the second time around, to be honest. 

"Since when do you care?" 

He didn't move. It was a little unnerving, how little he seemed to need to do that. I felt like a mouse under the stare of a cat. A particularly large and skilled hunter of a cat, at that. 

"Since always, Bast." 

"Yeah, okay." 

"Put away the attitude, kid." He snapped. "I know you're hurting, but getting shitty with me won't help anything." 

He was right, and I hated it. Hated him for it. I didn't want him to be right. I didn't want to be calm. 

I didn't want to be fucking calm. 

"Don't you fucking talk down to me, Goddamn it." I fought for the anger, reached for it, held it tight, 

clutched it to my chest like a security blanket. Anger was better than breaking down sobbing. Anger was better than curling in a ball against the wall and screaming my throat raw. Anger was what I wanted, what I needed. 

 

"Enough." He sounded like Rook, now, when Rook entered Captain Mode, and it stung. It jarred me away from the anger I was desperately clinging to, into the memory, and despite the effort I was making so hard to control myself, I felt my shoulders heave in a soundless sob. "That's enough, Bast." This time, it was the healer's voice, calm and measured. He caught me with those stunning eyes- and God, I didn't want to see those eyes, didn't want to think of them as beautiful, didn't want to like him. 

"Enough, I said." He went on, slowly, more softly, sounding like a healer once more- a healer with stunning eyes and a very strong, powerful hand that was slamming openpalmed into my sternum. Pain blossomed through me so hard my vision tunneled. 

"Fuck you!" I wanted it to be a bark. It came out a pathetic wheeze. He did me the favor, at least, of not calling me on it. "You're a little young for me." Was all he said, eyebrows arched, patting my sternum more gently this time. "Now settle down." 

I didn't appreciate that. I appreciated even less how much I wanted to listen to that calm, slow drawl. 

Isn't there some saying about how stupid it is to tell someone upset to 'calm down'? 

This guy should have listened to it. 

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down-" I managed, through the wheezing. "This isn't a joke, old man, it's 

not funny-" 

"Hey, hey, Bast!" Zephyr hit me, this time, right in the same Goddamned spot. "That's enough, like the man said. That goes for you, too, Hyndrix, stop pushing." 

The healer stepped back from me, his lips thin and eyes narrowed. Something told me he had issues with being ordered- which was funny, considering his current station. 

"Go tend to your other patients." He drawled, and then, a little more sharply- "Go on, Hendryx. Sam's shoulder, remember?" 

 

I could see now, just behind him- Samandrel's vague shape, Pik on the bedframe beside him. He gave me a smile and weak wave. Sweet kid, really, and it was hard for me to direct my anger at him; even less so when Pik sat up and mimicked his wave. 

"Bast." Zephyr's voice was more gentle. "Listen to me. I am not turning you in. You're not in danger here." His voice stayed low and soft, and his hand rested, lightly, on my shoulder. Like he was my friend. Like he was my brother. "Whatever side we're both on, right now, it doesn't matter. You tell me where you want to go, how you want to handle this, and we will. But my advice is to stay with us. Just for a while." 

He took his hand away and stepped back, once, twice. "I won't ask you to decide now. But think about it, kid." 

It was hard to think- as hard as it had been moments before to breathe. Everything felt fuzzy and blurry, and I couldn't- I couldn't- 

"Lay him back, he's going to-" 

The voice- Hendrix It sounded so far away-so Goddamn far. Was I falling again? Had the Rocs come back? I lurched upright, panicked, struggling, air rasping through a throat too tight into lungs that didn't seem to remember what they were for. 

"Bast. Bast! Bast-" 

And- again, Goddamnit-my world faded to black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bastion totally isn't in denial.

Chapter 10 

I'm not sure how long I floated this time around. I know I spent most of my time drugged, and drugs'll 

do that to you- make you lose days. Or weeks. And this healer of Zephyr's seemed a little too willing to   
use them instead of putting up with my bullshit. But eventually, I opened my eyes, the light stabbing 

into them like fucking daggers. I groaned, twisting slightly with a grimace, feeling not unlike a certain   
Van Winkle, tested sitting up slowly. I stretched, carefully, and found the pain had faded enough that 

moving was...doable. Not pleasant, but doable. Mostly, I just felt sore- and tired. Funny, wasn't that? I 

was so tired and I'd just slept for God knew how long. 

I felt more in my right mind, a little clearer now, and little calmer- I remembered panicking but not over   
what. I put my hand to my forehead, nursing the headache that was still there. I groaned softly, rubbed 

at it, and swung my legs over the side, feet touching the cold wood of the floor. 

"Good morning." The calm, deep voice came from what sounded like somewhere at the foot of my bed. 

I jolted slightly with surprise, pain racing for a split second through me, and twisted to see the healer 

that had been responsible for putting me out for- however long I'd been out. He was seated in a leather 

chair, his dark hair pulled back into a stern bun, those vivid eyes locked on mine- tired, but sharp, alert 

and intelligent. Out of pain, calmer, without the influence of drugs, I could see him more clearly- and 

damn, he was more gorgeous even then I'd thought. It was...a little awkward. 

Hendrix. He'd said his name was Hendrix. 

"How long have I been out? My voice came out like someone who'd been a chronic smoker for his entire life. I coughed, trying again. "Where are we?" And there. Like a punch out of no where, it came back to me- Rook. The Falcon. 

They'd fallen. 

I was alone. 

Alone, on a ship that could very well belong to someone who wanted to hurt me. Among virtual 

strangers. "Did we find them?" Still rough, still ragged. "Did we even try?" 

He sighed, arching his eyebrows. "Seems we had this conversation already." He drawled, with a 

humorless chuckle. And it was a drawl, in the most literal sense of the word. Slow, honied molasses, 

warm and rich. "About a day, believe it or not. Feels longer, doesn't it?" He cocked his head, and 

pushed into a stand; on the table near the chair, I could see an ashtray, several butts in it. Smoker; that 

surprised me. You'd think, as a healer- 

"You seem more alert." He crossed to me, reached out to take my wrist gently. Checking me. Testing 

me. 

I felt better. I couldn't lie. And with that came both the awareness of how wrong my attraction was, and 

the guilt of... 

Being alive. 

Helluvathing, that. To feel guilty for being alive. It was like a weight in your chest, in your gut. A stone   
dropped there, something heavy and undigestable, something hard to breathe around, something hard 

to swallow around. "I feel better." It was still a rough, growling, strangled rasp. I couldn't make it come 

out more clearly, more loudly. "You're a talented healer." That was easier to talk about- to think about- 

than anything else, right now. He smiled-it was tired and wane but real- and pulled away. "Thank you. 

You'll want to thank The Captain, too." 

"For?..." 

"He's looking for your Rook." 

Now that? I hadn't expected. Groggily, I remembered a promise not to turn me in- soft condolences. An 

offer. 

A guarantee he'd take me anywhere I wanted. 

"I thought he thought-" I stopped, choking, almost literally, on the words that didn't want to come. "I 

thought he thought- they were" 

"I don't know what they believe, and I don't speak for Zephyr." He cut me off, staring through me for a 

long moment, then blinking, vision clearing. "You're okay to walk, but go slowly and be careful." He 

spoke a little slowly, vision still in the progress of clearing- I realized he'd been looking at my injury. 

Creepy. 

"Go on up to the deck." His voice was more gentle now, as if he understood my mental state. "Talk to 

him." 

I didn't want to. God, I didn't want to. He was the last person I wanted to see- now more than ever. But 

I had to; had to, at the very least, tell him where I wanted to be set down and pray he kept his promise. 

"Thank you." I heard myself say, and I struggled to my feet. 

"Don't." He held up a hand. "It's my job. Now. Go on." The same hand made a shooing motion. I 

followed his command, spoken and un, and made my way out. 

It was strange, being on an unfamiliar ship. It smelt and felt and sounded wrong the halls and layout 

were familiar but not, and it bustled with people, as opposed to the quiet, near-empty halls of the 

Falcon. She was much, much larger, as well, and it kept throwing off my sense of spatial awareness and 

where I was; almost made me walk into walls where I thought there should be doors more then once, 

and miss corridors that I didn't think should exist. That wouldn't have, at home. 

But most ships, no matter how large or small, have really similar layouts. It's just a matter of where 

they're placed. The captian's quarters are, though, almost always near the top- at the highest point of the ship. I know that seems unsafe and maybe it is, but it's how they're designed, every last damn one I've ever seen. 

So I followed the maze of corridors up and through the ship twice as big as the Falcon was, and, 

despite the rat-in-a-maze feel of it all, I found my feet taking me with unnerving familiarity exactly 

where I needed to go. Zephyr sat there, in a plush leather chair, a glass of what seemed to be whisky in 

one hand. "You're looking better." Came the slow drawl, and God, I hated the way he could do that; 

sound so lazy and unalarmed when, to me, the entire damn sky was coming down around my ears. Rook   
had been able to do the same thing- it always drove all of us insane. 

"You're the second person to say something like that to me." I managed a strained smile, and could feel 

how false it was. "I feel- better." I wasn't sure if I was lying or not. 

 

 

"There's been no sign of the Falcon." His voice softened a little. "Or her crew, Bast." 

I gritted my teeth and pushed the thought away, stubbornly. Just because they couldn't find her- find 

them- didn't mean they were- 

It didn't mean anything. I could find them. I would find them. I had to. Amarok was my only living family. 

The crew was my only family. I wouldn't let them be dead. I wouldn't let them down like that. 

"I'll figure it out." I could hear the tone in my own voice, flat and cold, as if I was in shock. Was I in shock? 

I couldn't know- I didn't think I was. I could feel myself rocking, absently, back and forth on my heels, and 

then that I was being grabbed again, hard, by one arm. 

"-ast. Bast. C'mon, son, focus." Zephyr's voice was low and calm, coming more and more clear, dragging 

me with it. Forcing me back to reality. "Breathe and focus." His hands were on my shoulders- he was 

touching me. I didn't want his hands on me. I didn't want him touching- 

I shoved him off, pushed myself backwards violently. I hit the wall, aware of my back thudding into it 

distantly. 

"Bast, calm down." This time, the voice seemed to come from somewhere inside my head, and outside- 

from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was a calming and soothing thing, like a warm drink after 

being out in the cold, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I blinked, clearing my visionand realziing that it wasn't Zephyr I was hearing anymore, but a lower, deeper, and familiar voice. I must have been out of it longer then I thought, because at some point, it seemed, they'd brought Hendrix in here. Travel time, admittedly, wasn't very long or far...but I'd still lost timeat some point. At least two or three minutes. 

Maybe I wasn't so okay. 

Hendrix had both hands on my shoulders, but the second I noticed, he removed them. He was staring directly into my eyes. Deeply into my eyes. 

His were....very blue. 

I made myself close my mouth before I looked like an even bigger idiot. 

"Can you hear me, Bast? No one is going to touch you again, okay?" The voice was still a mix of inside 

and outside of my head, surreal and strange. It was backing off, though, backing away, like the hands that   
had been on my shoulders. I still felt calmer gain, more relaxed then I had before he'd done... whatever 

he'd just done. Part of me thought I should feel violated-part of me did. Most of me, though, just felt 

relieved. 

"Okay?" He repeated, quiet but firm. I realize he was actually waiting for a reply, and managed to catch 

my breathe and manage a low reply. 

"Yeah. Okay, alright, okay." I tried not to sound too breathy, too stunned- but I'm pretty sure I failed. 

"Good." He accepted it, none the less, and stepped back from my personal bubble. I felt him ease the 

rest of the way back from my mind, too. "Easy. Nice and slow now." 

 

I should have been embarrassed over two breakdowns in a few short hours, but I couldn't feel much 

but the drifty, relaxed sensation. He'd gone and made me drunk- was this like being slipped a magical 

roofie? Should I be blowing a rape whistle? 

I laughed, not entirely sure why, and he smirked. The expression suited his rugged face. 

I really needed to stop noticing the worst things at the worst moments. "I'm okay." I told him, shaky. "I'm   
fine." I took in a deep breath, swallowed hard- it sounded more like a gulp then I wanted it to- and 

squared my shoulders. Zephyr had stepped back away from me, giving me space. 

"Bast, stay with us. Just for a few days." His voice was soft, quiet- it was more of a request then I 

expected- more than the demands and orders he'd been barking earlier. As if he'd finally realized how 

much that hadn't been working. 

 

Honestly, the truth was, I would have been stupid to refuse. I had nowhere else to go. No one to go to. 

For- a while. Only for a little while. Only for a little while. Only until we found them. Only until I found them. 

"For now. Only- for right now." My tongue felt thick and swollen. "Until they find me. Until I find them." 

"Of course." If Zephyr didn't know I knew I was being humored, I'd be surprised. He wasn't stupid. He was a lot of things, but not stupid. "Good choice. Good boy." I tried not to feel like a praised dog; he hadn't meant it that way. He patted my shoulder lightly, and this time I didn't flinch away. 

"Get some rest, hu? Or more rest." He said. "When he's ready, Hendrix, send him up to the deck. We'll 

give you a job to do, something to keep your mind busy." 

 

That-sounded better than it should have. Better than I wanted it to. Something else to think about. 

Until. Only for until.


End file.
